Pink Peppermint & Other Tales of Harry and Ginny
by fairytalemanipulator
Summary: Oneshot uncaptured moments series of Harry/Ginny. Ch29: Quidditch Books and Sideways Looks. Read and review xoxo!
1. Pink Peppermint

**Title: Pink Peppermint **

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: Oneshot series of Harry/Ginny. Ginny projects her anger onto Harry. Because really, it is partially his fault. Oh, the horror… a little humor set during the Half-Blood Prince.**

**Pairings: Harry/Ginny**

**Disclaimer: Don't own HP or these characters.**

**Author notes:**

**This is the first part of random Harry/Ginny oneshots I feel like writing. They won't be in chronological order, nor will they be related to each other; each is an individual story.**

**Read and review please, dears! Love from the fairytalemanipulator**

--

"Harry James Potter!"

The roar echoed through Hogwarts and through the grounds, reaching Hagrid's cabin and penetrating the ears of every student within a five mile radius of Ginny Weasley.

"Er--do you think she knows?" Harry whispered from his hiding place in the Gryffindor common room, crouching underneath one of the many study desks.

Ron ducked down, his red hair clashing horribly with the magenta colored carpet.

"Mate, I think EVERYONE knows,"

"Bloody hell," Harry whispered. Visions worse than what Voldemort could do to him danced through his head; his face being attacked by his girlfriend's worst Bat-Bogey Hex seemed to be the least that she would do at this moment.

"I mean, I didn't think it would turn out like that! I didn't mean to--"

The portrait hole to the common room smashed open as the Fat Lady cried out with an "I say, child!" and the entire area went deathly silent as students ran for quick cover.

Ginevra Weasley never looked more threatening than when she towered over the students, her shadow looming like the Bloody Baron-- if he wasn't a ghost, that is.

And of course, the pink-and-white-striped red hair didn't do much for her, either.

Throwing dangerous looks at anyone who as much looked at her head of hair, Ginny stalked towards the back of the common room, seeming to know exactly where her misfortunate boyfriend hid.

Harry whimpered silently, coming up with excuses in his head, such as "I didn't know Fred and George would give me a JOKE card for THIS, my love, I thought it was simply a special occasion card that sang--"

When her sensible black shoes stopped in front of the desk he was hiding under, Harry stuffed his fist in his mouth. _Merlin in the starry skies above…_

Quick as a whip, she leaned down and gave him a maniacal grin.

"Hello, Potter," she leered, her eyes radiating madness.

"Erm. Hello, Ginny, love," Harry smiled, his face reflecting in her shining orbs of brown. _Facing Voldemort sounds pretty good right about now._

"Thank you ever so much for that card."

"Ginny, I didn't know, I thought they sold REGULAR cards, you know, but they bewitched them to sing, I know you liked that Weird Sisters song and it was very fitting, since you won that great victory for us, which, did I ever tell you how lovely you looked after that?" Harry rambled, as she got closer and closer until her glinting eyes were a centimeter from his own.

He stopped breathing.

"Why thank you, boyfriend. I thought you looked rather radiant too after I snogged the hell out of you. I also thought I looked relatively adorable with NORMAL. COLORED. HAIR." These shouted last few words sent whatever foolish Gryffindors were still in the common room dashing up the stairs to their dormitories.

"Ginny…" Came a tentative voice from above Harry. "Sis, it really wasn't his fault, it was Fred and George, like it usually…is…"

Ginny slowly lifted herself up to his level. Even though she was shorter than him, Harry could just imagine Ron shrinking in the view of her stare.

"Of course I know it isn't his fault, Ronald," Ginny ground out through her teeth. "It's quite sweet of you, sticking up for your best mate and all, but since Fred and George aren't nearby I'M PROJECTING MY ANGER, ALL RIGHT? LEAVE ME ALONE TO PROJECT!"

She was screaming at the top of her lungs, and Harry could feel the floor shaking as Ron slowly backed away with his hands up, and when she ducked back under the desk to Harry, a thundering set of feet raced up to the boy's dormitory with a cowardly "Sorry!" whispered in Harry's direction.

Ginny turned to Harry, and as she had stated, projected her anger.

"HARRY JAMES. FRED AND GEORGE'S CARDS? OF COURSE THERE WAS SOMETHING ELSE, YOU BLITHERING IDIOT. YOU DOLT OF A DOLT! YOU BLUBBERING HUMDINGER!"

"Isn't…isn't that one of those creatures Luna keeps going off about…"

"DON'T YOU QUESTION ME, DEARIE. I WILL HEX YOU INTO TOMORROW IF YOU DON'T TELL ME HOW TO FIX THIS."

"Ginny, I didn't even know what happened until Hermione told me this morning, and then I was hoping you wouldn't notice because I thought I could sort it out with them by then, and then--"

"WELL YOU'D BETTER FIND OUT SOON, HADN'T YOU?"

"I didn't mean to! I thought it was a regular good job card, you know, one of those cute fluffy ones that sings…"

"ANYTHING CUTE AND FLUFFY OF FRED AND GEORGE'S IS AUTOMATICALLY REGARDED AS MINISTRY CONTRABAND, OR WERE YOU NOT AWARE OF THIS PREVIOUSLY?"

Harry hadn't taken a breath in a while, and the intoxicating scent of his girlfriend in very close proximity was getting to him.

"HOW COULD YOU EVEN—BEST OF INTENTIONS, EH? WELL I'LL SHOW YOU BEST OF--"

Harry leaned out from under the desk and kissed those perturbed lips, capturing the radiant pink of her cheeks with his fingers. He traced lines on her face, ending the kiss, leaving her with her eyes still closed.

"Ginny, I didn't mean to,"

"I know," she breathed, anger suddenly evaporated.

"So I can solve everything with one kiss, eh?" Harry grinned, feeling quite arrogant for the time being.

That is, until her eyes snapped open.

"OH SO NOW THE PROBLEM IS SOLVED, IS IT?" ("Ginny, you still look lovely, no one cares if you look like—err—a striped peppermint head—you are beautiful. Radiant, even!")

"OF COURSE YOU STILL THINK I LOOK BEAUTIFUL, YOU MORONIC IMBECILE, I AM BEAUTIFUL, BUT MY HAIR IS BOTHERING ME, AND YOU'D BETTER FIX IT SOON OR NO MORE SNOGGING FOR YOU!"

With that, Ginny stormed away and up the stairs, most likely to tie her hair up in a scarf for the rest of the day, leaving Harry bewildered, and under a desk.

"Women…" he murmured to himself, burying his head in his hands.

"I HEARD THAT, HARRY JAMES!"

Harry leapt up, dashing out of the portrait hole. "Off to owl Fred and George for a cure for your hair, dear, see you in a few!"

Ginny looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. "Pink peppermint and red hair. Fred and George, you have really outdone your bloody selves this time."

She gave a bone-chilling smile to herself in the mirror. "Oh, but you will learn, twins. Dear brothers, you will learn,"

End


	2. Melancholy Sundays

**Title: Melancholy Sundays**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: "Sunday afternoons are so…melancholy…" Ginny murmured. Harry and Ginny decide to hunt for something to do on a depressing Sunday; what else is there to do? Oneshot.**

**Spoilers: Set any time before Harry and Ginny get together **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

**Read and review, love from your fairytalemanipulator!**

--

"Sunday afternoons are so…melancholy…" Ginny murmured, more to herself than anyone else. The Gryffindor common room was nearly empty; Dean Thomas was lounging in a cushy armchair by the fire, snoozing, while Harry and Ron smashed their wizard chess pieces into each other.

Hermione was muttering fervently to herself on the other side of the table from Ginny, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth. Ink was staining her hands and her quill was bent nearly in half with the force she was writing her foot-long essay for Snape.

"Say something, Ginny?" Hermione questioned in a half sentence, her eyes darting back and forth on her parchment.

Harry looked up at the two girls. "No idea what you're talking about, Ginny, looks like one of Slughorn's parties in here,"

Ginny scanned the room, grinning at Dean's loud snores. "I want to do something,"

"Like what?" Ron asked, his brow furrowed as his squealing bishop was tackled by Harry's queen.

"Dunno, 'Mione, want to go to Hagrid's?"

"Can't, need to finish this,"  
"What about you boys?"

"Ronald Weasley," Hermione said with a severity that rivaled Mrs. Weasley's. "You go nowhere until you finish your potions essay,"

"But 'Mione…"

"No, Ronald! You are not copying off of me again! Honestly, how do you expect to pass your tests this way?"

Ron dithered in agitation. "But…but…"

"No!"

"Alright then!" Ginny stared at Harry. "We should do something,"

"We could set off dungbombs in the broom closet,"

"Fireworks in McGonagall's office?"

"Visit Hagrid!"

"Dare the first years to put a foot in the Forbidden Forest and then jump out from a bush and scare the living shite out of them?"

"Ronald! Essay!"

"Right-o."

Harry and Ginny bounced ideas back and forth for another few minutes before tiring of the constant bickering of Hermione and Ron. Bidding their goodbyes, the pair clambered out of the portrait hole and into the nearly empty hall. The eerie silence in the castle sent goosebumps up Ginny's back, and she found herself giving thanks for the presence of Harry at her side. He didn't say anything, but his frequent glances and teasing nudges kept her from succumbing to the melancholy Sunday mood. Glancing out the window as they descended the stairs near the Great Hall, Ginny was surprised to see the rain pouring down, lending to the gloomy afternoon that was speedily arriving.

An idea sparked in her mind, and before she could voice it she was racing down the hall to the double doors leading outside.

"Ginny, it's raining, where are we…" Harry was yanked unceremoniously from his sedentary position glued to the cobbled floor of the hall by a redhead running so fast her legs were a blur.

"Ginny, Merlin, slow down!"

"Look at the rain, Harry, it's perfect!"

"Perfect for what? Have you gone stark raving mad, Gin?"

"NO, just come on! You wanted to do something too, remember?"

"Well—"

Harry's words were drowned out in the flood of water that hit the castle of Hogwarts and the surrounding grounds in a cacophony of natural beauty. Throwing the doors open, Ginny stepped out onto the pathway leading down to Hagrid's hut, lifting her face to the sky.

"Ginny, you'll be soaked," Harry said practically, taking off his jacket and throwing it around her shoulders. Her already-sopping hair fell on his hands, and he marveled at the soft consistency with which it caressed his calloused hands.

"I don't care, Harry, come out here and FEEL the world!" Ginny shouted to no one in particular, throwing his jacket back into his hands and twirling around with her arms wide open. Harry watched her, bemused but astounded by her peace and serenity.

"You look like you belong here," he said softly, not expecting her to be listening. Harry was surprised when Ginny stopped her dancing and came up beside him.

"And you do too," she said with a gentle smile, grabbing his hands and tossing his jacket onto a nearby bench. "Come on, Harry, feel it all,"

"I—I can't dance," he stuttered, feeling awkward and cold in the majestic storm brewing above him.

"You don't have to. Imagine the world, imagine us, we're so little in this world, Harry! But it's all about us right now!"

"All about us…" murmured Harry, watching Ginny twirl around, her feet lifting with glee. "Us…"

Ginny stopped suddenly, whirling around to face him. "Come on now, Potter, don't tell me you're afraid of a little _rain…_"

"Oh, Miss Weasley, is that the route you wish to take?" Harry grinned and raced towards her, laughing out loud when she yelped and dashed out towards the green and muddy grounds, chasing after her and soaking from head to toe.

Finally catching up with her, Harry tackled the youngest Weasley, and as she landed with a gentle 'oomph' on the ground, he rolled off of her, his arm coming up to cover his forehead.

Ginny raised herself on her elbows, peering at the boy (_man_) lying beside her, his raven-colored hair glowing in the watery glory that was the rain. He was breathing heavily and had the outline of a smile still on his face.

"I told you this would be fun," she told him sincerely, watching for the expression on his face.

"_I told you this would be fun,_" he mocked her, grinning. She smacked him gently on the arm, and he responded with a "Hey!" of mock indignation.

"Aren't you glad I dragged you out in the rain now?" Ginny said cheekily as Harry sat up, taking off his glasses. He turned to her and nearly stopped breathing. _Bloody hell._

_It's…_

Words could not describe the feelings rushing through him in regards to the little redheaded creature currently staring back at him with piercing brown eyes. Her clothes clung tightly to her body in the rain, and her hair flowed a deep rich red down her back and shoulders. He finally drew a breath and shook his head.

"What's wrong?" she questioned, looking perplexed.

"Nothing, it's just…"  
"What?"

"Nothing. We'd better get inside and make sure Hermione and Ron aren't killing each other,"

Looking slightly disappointed (or were Harry's eyes deceiving him?), Ginny agreed and stood, stumbling in the mud and almost falling if it had not been for Harry's steadying hand.

He didn't let go as they made their way across the grounds to the bench where Harry's jacket lay, where he finally untangled his hand from hers and shivered while grabbing his jacket. Ginny performed a quick drying spell on both of them and they headed back inside, hands brushing but never coming in direct contact again.

Returning in the flickering torch light to the common room, Ginny was surprised to read on the clock that it was now evening, and no longer afternoon.

"Where have you two been?" Hermione asked with one raised eyebrow, while Ron looked from his best friend to his sister and let out a half-growl.

"Nowhere, we went outside and played in the rain," Ginny said innocently, to a muffled "Yeah right" from Ron and a delighted "Aww" from Hermione. "I'm going to go get changed for dinner, I'll be back down."

With a last look at Harry, Ginny ascended the stairs to her dormitory, only looking back once she reached the top to see Harry looking back at her, as well as a confused Ron. She flushed, ducking into her room and shutting the door. Leaning against the frame, Ginny raised a hand to her face.

_Redheads really are the worst at blushing._

Meanwhile downstairs, Harry was still wrestling with his thoughts.

"Oy, mate," Ron said threateningly. "You and my sister?"

"No," Harry muttered. "Calm down, Ron, we didn't do anything,"

"Well I think it's downright adorable," Hermione said primly, arranging her quills in order of use. "Honestly Ron, who is better for your sister than your best mate?"

"Would you two stop it already?" Harry said tiredly. "Nothing is or will happen between me and Ginny."

Or so he thought.

**End.**


	3. Love Through the Ages

**Title: The Love Through the Ages**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: In the early days of their courtship, she would say "Why do you love me?"-love through the ages**

**Spoilers: Well...quite obvious that it's, uh, set through the ages...heh.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

**A/N:**** This jumped into my head all of a sudden and I had to write it. It's very rough but I hope it tickles someone's fancy, I certainly like it, almost reduced me to tears writing it. I hope it captures Harry and Ginny in new moments…please review, I love getting reviews, they keep me going.**

**Let me know what you think I should write about next; if you come up with something I will most certainly thank you for the inspiration!**

**Please please please review. Much love from the fairytalemanipulator.**

_--  
_

In the early days of their courtship, she would say "Why do you love me?"; to which he would reply, "That's a secret, Gin."

They played this game until he recounted the early days of Hogwarts; the way she fawned after him during her first year, the fear he felt during the Chamber of Secrets…a fear, Harry said, he realized was much more than a brother felt for a sister.

"In fact," he would say, tracing the curve of her jaw with his fingertips in front of the roaring fire at the Burrow, "All I could feel was passion."

Then he would tell her how after the war, all he could think of was her.

"When I saw you in the Great Hall right after Voldemort was gone, I loved you so much my heart hurt,"

To which Ginny would solemnly nod. "You have a heart, Harry?"

"Why, yes, surprising, isn't it? Did Ron tell you otherwise?"

"Communication is not one of his strong points,"

"And what about me?"

"What about you?"

"Do you love me?"

"Do YOU love ME?"

Harry would grin and wiggle his eyebrows at her as she yelped in surprise; he would tickle her on her side where he knew she would react.

The words didn't need to be spoken often; it was always felt. And where something is felt often, words are sometimes a hindrance.

--

In the later days of their relationship, she would say "How much do you love me?"

Wearing her engagement ring, Ginny would worry her lips with her perfectly white teeth, reddening them even further to a point to which Harry thought he would explode.

"What do you mean, how much do I love you?" Harry would boom, using his new position as the head of the Department of Magical Enforcement to increase his authority.

It never worked on Ginny, though. She would simply look at him with those coquettish eyes and work her magic (without a wand).

"I almost love you more than I love Quiddich."

Ginny would huff and puff in anger, bustling to the kitchen to fix dinner in their new flat in magical London. "Oh do you now? Then why don't you go off and marry Quiddich, I hear it gives a good shag,"

To this, Harry would smile to himself, wrapping his arms around his wife-to-be.

"I love you more than I love Chocolate Frogs," he would whisper into the sensitive spot in her neck as she shivered and tried to push him away. "I love you more than I love making fun of Hermione when she's pregnant,"

At this Ginny would pull his arms away from her, turning to admonish him, only to feel his soft lips on her own.

"I love you enough to know that when you're trying to be angry at me, your eyes twinkle just like Dumbledore's," Harry whispered into her lips. "I love you more than my job; I love you more than my life; I love you so much I will fight for you. And I have."

To which Ginny would sigh and melt into a puddle of what she had once sworn, as a violent feminist, she would never melt into a puddle of.

Watching his fiancée's sparkling eyes, Harry would swear up and down that she never had to question his love. Ever.

--

When they were past the engagement and well into their marriage, she would say "Tell me how much you love me." During her first pregnancy, he would massage her ankles and remind her of their times at Hogwarts under the invisibility cloak; "Even back then, I loved you enough to endure Snape's wrath at catching us in the halls at 3am on Sunday mornings."

After their first child, he would tell her stories she hadn't heard of the War; of his trials with Ron and Hermione, how all he could think of was _my Ginny._ How while the two of them were fighting over their own feelings and overcoming a great evil, he was battling his own feelings and feeling Voldemort breathing down his neck.

"The thought of you kept me going, Gin…that's how much I love you."

After all the children, after they left for Hogwarts, Ginny caught him crying in their bedroom…after the last child was gone, what was left for them?

"Tell me how much you love me," she would utter, and his tears would dry and he would remember.

As a young couple, how they would evade Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and go to the shed hidden behind the Burrow.

How he proposed to her, down on one knee exactly a year after the War was ended…how she kissed him and traced his scar with her light fingertips, tears of joy streaming down her face.

How their wedding was almost ruined by Hermione going into labor with her second child…and how they laughed later at the sight of Ron's face during the moment.

How they always seemed to fit, no matter how wrong the world was; all they needed was each other.

So she stopped asking questions, and started knowing the answers before she asked. So when the children asked how much Daddy loved Mummy, Mummy could answer in his words.

"Daddy loves me almost as much as Quiddich. And that is a rare thing for a wizard nowadays, you hear?"

**Please review!**


	4. Muggle Travel and Magical Honeymoons

**Title: Muggle Travel and Magical Honeymoons**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: Laughter bubbled up inside Harry. "So I really have to take my wife, who is as far from a Muggle as you can get, into an airport…on an airplane…all the way to the Bahamas for our honeymoon…"**

**Spoilers: Set after the series.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own HP.**

**A/N: This isn't the best one, but I had the idea in my head and I had to get it out. Enjoy, there's a new installment coming soon, peace out!**

**--**

"I'm telling you, Rolf," Harry muttered feverishly while the girls were in the kitchen. "She's absolutely bollocks about this, it's insanity,"

"Why don't you just humor her, Harry, it's not like you don't have the money," Rolf answered amiably, leaning back and interlacing his fingers behind his head. He eyed his friend with amusement, noting the petrified look in his eyes. "Unless, of course, you're too chicken to take an airplane,"

"What?" Harry sputtered, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "No, no, no, nothing like that, I've even been on one before, it was…it was wonderful…"

"Look," Rolf leaned forward, checking to make sure Luna and Ginny were still chatting in the kitchen. "I figure you can either do this one thing for her and have fun being pretend-Muggle for a little bit on your honeymoon, or spend the rest of your month in supposed bliss regretting your very existence."

Harry gulped. "Very well put, mate,"

After their wedding, Harry and Ginny had delayed their honeymoon due to work and scheduling conflicts; a blessing in disguise, because it was during the time they had scheduled as their honeymoon that Luna came back from Germany with a fiance. Introductions were quickly made all through the old friend circle which still remained close years after Hogwarts, and Harry and Ron quickly grew to regard Rolf as a good friend and confidante. Ginny, wanting to spend more time with Luna, had talked Harry into going to dinner at their modest flat in suburban London twice a week for almost a month now. Harry grew to enjoy the time, especially the break, since as a new Auror he had very little free time in between paperwork and new assignments.

"So when are you two planning your escapade after all?" Rolf asked, lazily waving his wand to recline his chair. "Magical Merlin I ate more than my share of that rhubarb pie."

"Probably in two weeks, I have time off then and Gin doesn't have any press appearances scheduled, so we can get away," Harry rubbed his own over-fed stomach, grimacing in pain. Ron would be proud of the way he had managed to scarf down his food; he simply couldn't resist his wife's cooking, and she was quickly teaching Luna all the tricks her mother had taught her.

"I suppose the Holyhead Harpies aren't too keen on giving Ginny any time," Rolf chuckled. "You're lucky it isn't Quiddich season yet or you'd never get your honeymoon,"

Laughter bubbled up inside Harry. "So I really have to take my wife, who is as far from a Muggle as you can get, into an airport…on an airplane…all the way to the Bahamas for our honeymoon…"

"Think of it as an educational experience. She'll get to see how the other half lives,"

"If she's anything like her father," Harry eyed his wife, who was standing with her back towards them in the doorway of the kitchen. "This is going to be fun."

--

The few times Ginny had been to Muggle London had been relatively uneventful, considering they were mostly in transit. The one time they had gone for a real reason was when Harry showed her Privet Drive, where he had lived with his uncle and aunt. Ginny was desperately wanting to whisper an ignition spell as she left and burn the whole place down, but something told her that would be a bad idea.

"So what are those blokes doing standing out front again?" Ginny whispered, trying for all her might to look like a Muggle housewife. _As if, _her inner voice snorted.

"They're Heathrow security," Harry whispered back with a pained look on his face. Ginny furrowed her brows, trying to figure out what was wrong. "Are you constipated again, dear?"

The couple passing by them on the sidewalk sniggered at Ginny's words, and Harry turned a light shade of pink.

"No, Gin, you've been standing on my foot for the past five minutes while scrutinizing everything passing by, and I haven't had the heart to disturb you,"

Ginny immediately moved her foot. "Sorry, thought it was a rock."

"S'alright. But we should get going, they say you should leave at least three hours for international flights," Harry grunted at the weight of the trolley he was currently holding in place. _Why is it that whenever women take what they need, it's always half of their closet, _he complained to himself, looking at the five largely overstuffed suitcases on the trolley. They would not have fit under normal circumstances, but Harry had done a bit of, erm, altering to fix that...shrinking spells do work quite well.

"Why do they need three hours?" Ginny asked dreamily, her eyes following a little boy licking an ice cream cone.

Harry sighed. "Walk and drool at the same time, please, if you want to get on an airplane we're going now!"

"Oh, goodie!" Ginny snapped her eyes to her husband, who was standing with one eyebrow raised. "Well, get a move on, then!"

"At your service, madam," Harry replied grandly, doffing an imaginary cap. As he grunted and groaned his way past the security at the front, one of the officers gave him a sympathetic smile. In return, Ginny bared her teeth in a convincing grin (for a tigress).

"Did I do well? Do I look Muggle?" Ginny asked excitedly, gesturing down at her plain white dress and denim jacket.

"Yes, yes," coughed Harry, leading the way to the ticket counter. At this rate they would never get out of the country.

--

"Well this is utterly ridiculous," Ginny hissed, bouncing up and down. "At this rate we'll never make the flight,"

Her fingers itched for her wand, but she fought the urge. Harry caught her twitching feverishly, and he muttered back to her under his breath.

"You were the one who wanted to go on an airplane and wouldn't leave me alone about it, if it were up to me we could have Apparated to the flipping end of the world and back,"

"But it's such a long queue!" Ginny whined loudly, causing two older women to turn around and sniff indignantly. Sticking her tongue out at their backs, Ginny whirled around in circles, much to Harry's amusement. Waiting in the line at the security check was so boring.

"You're like a child," he said, amused. He immediately took back his words when he took in his suddenly still wife's miffed expression.

"I meant that in the grandest of ways," he said plaintively. "Oh don't do that, you know what I mean, reminds me of Hogwarts when you and I used to play in the snow or something, good times, good times," he said hastily, atoning for his lapse in judgment.

Ginny frowned at him and tucked one foot on top of the other. "Is this how Muggles amuse themselves all the times? I suppose they must have lots of lines everywhere,"

Hearing the high-pitched voice of a child say "Mummy, what's a Muggle?", Harry attempted shushing his wife.

"What're those?" Ginny pointed towards the metal detectors as they came in view, awed. "Are they larger versions of Sneakoscopes or something?" She watched as a man removed much of his accessories in preparation of going through the large device. It beeped with a red light when he went through, much to his chagrin, as he had to go back again. "Does it suck up all jewelry or something?"

"Err not quite…" Harry choked on his laughter. "You see the machine next to it? With the rollie thing? That sucks in the bags and stuff? That's an X-Ray machine, and the big one is the metal detector, the machine scans bags for hazardous materials and the metal detector scans you for hazardous materials, in a way,"

Ginny blinked owlishly. "So…" –pause- "would a Dungbomb be considered hazardous?"

"Ginny…you didn't…" Harry managed to get out, feeling weak at the knees. _That could be hard to explain to airport security…_

"I just found it in my jacket pocket, I swear."

"How'd it get there?"

"…Dunno…"

--

They managed to get through security. Barely. Using a lot of methods that if the Auror department of the Ministry ever heard about, they'd be proud.

If the Minister heard, that'd be another matter.

Sitting at the gate, Ginny winced. She hoped her Memory-Modifying Charm wasn't too long-lived, that could have dire consequences.

Harry was thinking the exact same thing, glancing sideways at his wife. _She would have made a good Auror, _he mused to himself, eyeing her bright red hair. _Then again…_

As if on cue, Ginny leapt up from her seat as if a firecracker exploded in a sensitive area.

"LOOK! IT'S A PLANE! IT'S A REAL AIRPLANE!" Scores of people turned at the young woman's howling, and mothers quickly hurried their children away from the girl dashing towards the plate glass window.

Harry followed with his head down, coughing discreetly. "Gin?" he tried. "Scaring people is probably not a good way to make friends."

"But LOOK!" She breathed in little bursts, stroking the window. "IT'S SO PRETTY."

Slightly creeped out by his wife at the moment, Harry eyed the plane himself. "Yes, dear, we're going on that one. If you watch long enough you can see planes take off from the runway right there,"

"How do they stay up?" Ginny breathed, wide-eyed, looking all of five years old.

"Well, they…err, that is, we…" Harry scratched his head. "I have no idea. Ask your dad."

--

"Oh, it's so beautiful," Ginny remarked from her seat on the plane, looking out the window in a euphoric daze. "Merlin's pants, I do enjoy this,"

"Err, Gin…nothing's happened."

"Well I know, but look at the…what are they called?"

"Flight attendants?"  
"Right! In their adorable little outfits, I'm going to buy one of those for myself, and oh, look, there's a little infant in the seat right in front of us, he is quite adorable,"

"Mhm."

"Look over there, that looks just like a wing!"

"That's because it_ is_ a wing."

"What?"  
"The plane's wing."

"But we're seated right next to it, if it's flapping the whole trip I don't think this will be enjoyable for me."

"It…doesn't flap, dear."

"Then how do we get up in the air?"

Harry sighed, reaching over his seatbelt to pat his wife's hand. "You'll see, darling, you'll see."

--

It was in midair when Ginny was still shaking from the takeoff that she decided she never wanted to travel in Muggle transportation again. That, coupled with the screaming child in front of them and the vomit-inducing meal they were served was enough to make Ginny thank the heavenly stars above that this was not a regular thing for her.

"Harry?"

"Mmm?"  
"Next time, we're _Apparating_. I don't know why you insisted on taking this airplane when we could have spent less money and gotten there quickly without all of this fuss, why do all men feel a constant need to be around Muggle machinery? I swear, I will never understand your gender!"

Harry looked at her, wide-eyed, as she turned back to the window, huffing.

"Oh, I'm…sorry?" he whispered. "It'll be alright, dear…"

Drawing out Ginny's wrath on an enclosed vehicle with civilians present was not a wise thing to do.

_End._


	5. Oh The Places You Will Go

**Title: Oh The Places You Will Go**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: Ginny didn't understand how they could have ever led separate lives.**

**Disclaimer: None.**

**A/N: For us writers, reviews are like our crack, we feed off of it and you guys give us the encouragement to keep going. Please let me know if you like my stuff, I would appreciate just a second of your time…here's the latest installment, hope you enjoy! I don't really like this one all too much, but that's alright. The next one will be better.**

Ginny didn't understand how they could have ever led separate lives.

How was it that once upon a time, they didn't feel the constant need to repeat something funny they heard back to each other? How did they get through meals alone, without needing to comment on the dishes?

Ginny's thought process was interrupted by a Bludger flying directly past her face, causing her to close her eyes in alarm. Distraction during a major Quiddich match was probably not the smartest thing; her team needed her to pull herself together for this one.

She had only taken a week off for her honeymoon, cutting the time short due to the start of the Quiddich season. As one of the newest members of the Holyhead Harpies, Ginny was still trying to prove herself amongst her more seasoned teammates. She was not welcomed with open arms; her hiring was coupled with the firing of two much more experienced Harpies due to a large scandal at Gringott's. However, a large majority of the team was doing their best to treat her as one of their own. Ginny still couldn't help feeling out of sync, though, and wishing her husband was around to comfort her.

"POTTER!" roared the captain, her blonde hair in a mess on top of her head. She hovered twenty feet above the ground, gesturing ferociously at the youngest member of the team. "GET YOUR HEAD IN THE GAME!"

It took Ginny a minute to realize that yes, indeed, they were talking about her. She had looked around for Harry, expecting to see him zooming towards them on his Firebolt, only to remember with a start that he would not be back from his Auror training for another five days.

-------

"POTTER! GET YOUR HEAD IN THE GAME!"

Harry ducked, dodging the gold-colored spell that came bounding at him. He weaved between the trees, slightly distracted by the disconnected voices coming from the sky.

"Alright, just…stop." The trees flickered and disappeared, and the dome-shaped faux sky popped up.

When all that was left was the white floors and white walls of the Auror training room, Harry finally caught a glimpse of his partner. He was swatting himself with his wand, seemingly epileptic with fear.

"Err, Ron?"

"There was a…" Ron looked up to realize that the simulation was over. "Er, I thought I saw a spider,"

"GENTLEMEN!" Arturo Bumble, the new head of the Auror Training Division, was marching towards them. His voice was the one that enveloped their ears during the simulations, and both Harry and Ron had developed a distaste for the squat little man ("and his inability to understand 'time off'", Ron had murmured once out of earshot). After the war, Auror training was accelerated to six months instead of the customary year due to the Auror demand in capturing remaining Death Eaters. Both Harry and Ron were the lucky first batch to be back in the normal yearlong training program, most of which involved simulations and actual missions with older Aurors.

Harry and Ron were having a blast. _Cough._

An hour later, they were both sitting in the conference room, waiting for a briefing to begin. As the water pitcher poured them glasses of water, Ron massaged his head.

"Why is it that I can still feel where that fake tree smacked me in the face?"

Harry, meanwhile, was preoccupied with his own problems. He had been attempting to contact his wife for a day now; he knew she was busy with the Harpies and they had a game today, but the fact that he hadn't talked to her in a while was nettling him.

After all, she loved the Bumble stories, and Harry loved making her laugh with his retellings of being scolded by the trainer.

Harry sighed, thinking of how many days were left before he got to see her again. It was cruel to be newlyweds and spend so little time together, but their schedules dictated their lives together.

"How am I supposed to remember all the funny stuff I was going to tell her?" Harry asked Ron wearily, resting his head on the table. _Very unprofessional! _Bumble's voice resonated in his head. _We will not tolerate unAurorlike behavior in this institute!_

"I dunno," Ron muttered, still feeling his face. "Make a list."

As the other Auror trainees and Aurors filtered into the room, Harry's mind wandered.

_When did I become so dependent on her for my happiness? _He asked himself. Surprisingly, he found he didn't mind it at all.

"PEOPLE!" Bumble bumbled in, simply bursting with assumed power. "The Bulgarian Minister of Magic requires a security detail for his excursion to the British Muggle Prime Minister's residence, and we will be providing that detail. Potter, Weasley, and Bell, you three will be providing this detail. I trust that you two men will be able to handle yourselves; for the heroes of our age, security should not be too much to ask," Bumble guffawed to himself, not noticing the lack of laughter in the rest of the room. Katie Bell, a senior Auror, rolled her eyes at them from the corner. Harry still couldn't get used to Katie, once a formidable Quiddich team member, being addressed now as "Miss Bell" by the other Aurors. Calling her Katie now seemed taboo, so both he and Ron kept their mouths shut.

"Your mission should only last four or five days, but to be safe we're supplying you with extra potions…" Bumble's voice faded away as Harry heaved a heavy sigh to himself.

_Guess I won't be seeing Ginny for another week or so._

------------

Ginny was exhausted. After losing the match, the Harpies were a disheartened bunch, losing their steam in the first stretch of the Quiddich season. No one even had the strength for optimism, and the team dismissed straightaway after the game without their customary stop at a new bar in Diagon Alley. Ginny didn't mind; she hadn't yet been invited to the after-game party, and she knew she probably wouldn't be for a while. She walked to the edge of the Quiddich Pitch Apparation boundary, sneaking around the gaggle of reporters screaming questions at the disgruntled players, and disappeared with a pop, holding on tightly to her large bag of belongings. She reappeared outside her and Harry's new apartment building, unable to get further than that because of the anti-Apparition charms.

Too tired to search for her keys in her bag, she _Accioed _them into her hands, fumbling with them at the gated front door. She took a minute to sigh before ascending the stairs, slowly.

An owl hovered right outside the door, hooting gently when it saw Ginny. It perched itself on her shoulder while she opened the door, one leg raised from the note attached to it.

Dropping her things on the armchair, Ginny conjured up a rustling orange fire in the fireplace, needing the visual comfort. She knew who the short note was from before she opened it, and smiled at her husband's messy handwriting.

_Gone on a mission, be back in less than a week. Love you lots and expect to see a lot of you when I get back._

Ginny dropped into the armchair, crushing her bag behind her as she lay her head back. She knew it was his job. She knew that she traveled as much, if not more, than he did…_but is it too much to ask for a moment alone?_

Ginny didn't know where Harry kept their new joint Gringotts' account information, and she needed to make a withdrawal for new cleaning supplies, because the other day she had spilled their remaining bathroom cleaner all over the floor.

She didn't know what was wrong with the wireless, because all she was getting was static, no matter how much she smacked it around.

She groaned out loud, remembering their commitment to the Ministry of Magic's Annual Ball in two weeks. She had to buy a new dress, because her other one had a hole blown in it where little Teddy Lupin thought it would be funny to point his godfather's wand. But Ginny needed Harry's opinion on the dress…

Sighing once more, Ginny headed to the kitchen, filling a glass with water and taking little sips. _I am an independent witch. I can survive without my husband for a few days._

_Now where does he keep the headache potions?_

----

"Mrs. Potter, after you failed to seek the Snitch in the last game, how do you intend to change your game plan in the upcoming stretch against Ireland?"

"Mrs. Potter, does your husband help you practice?"

"Ginny, how do you feel as the newest member of the Harpies?"

Ginny sighed, inwardly rolling her eyes. She hated press conferences as did the rest of the Harpies, but they were a necessity of the job. Three days had passed since Harry's last note, and with no further communication due to his mission, Ginny was feeling unbearably alone. Sleeping in their large bed after Quiddich practices that made her muscles moan made her miss him even more; with no one to rub her aching joints at the end of a long day she had to settle for a Heating Ointment which was by no means as effective.

"The Holyhead Harpies welcome Ginny Potter into their midst, and with our increased practices we know we will fare better in our match against Ireland. That will be all." Their captain dismissed the numerous questions for Ginny with a wave of her hand, catching her eye and throwing her a wink in the process. The Harpies stood up from their table at the front of the field of reporters ahead of them, preparing to step down to continue their practice, when they were interrupted by one last question from the midst of the melee of journalists.

"Mrs. Potter, have you missed your husband over the last week or so?"

Ginny turned, ready to mouth off at the busybody, when she saw him. He was just standing there, placidly, in the gaggle of reporters, waiting for her to answer the question.

"Well, sir, I can assure you that it has been no great loss." Her attempt at sarcasm was lost in the tears prickling at her eyes, which he surely did not miss.

"Well it may not have been a great loss to her," he murmured, approaching the wilting witch. "But it was certainly a travesty to him."

And with that, Harry Potter crushed his lips upon his young wife, with the reporters in a frenzy snapping pictures of the married couple.

"What do you say to going somewhere a bit more…private…" Ginny managed to get out while surfacing for air.

"You have practice, darling," Harry panted, running his hands over her dirtied Quiddich robes. His warm eyes took in her frizzy red hair, windswept and beautiful, as she smiled a cunning smile up at him.

"I'll take an hour off."

And with a crack, they Apparated off to the shouts of reporters and Harpies alike.

"Don't get your pants in a twist," the captain of the Harpies said to the team with a grin. "She'll be back in a bit; after all, who can resist shagging the great Harry Potter?"

_End._


	6. Cherish The Moment

**Title: Cherish The Moment**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: Ginny's confrontation with Malfoy leaves her in need of a few kind words and a bit of comfort. R&R.**

**Spoilers: Stuff taken from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.**

**Rating: G**

**A/N: Review, review, review! If you have any requests for a fic you would like to see that fits into this series, feel free to request! Much love from the fairytalemanipulator**

Harry had quite enough to worry about already. What with exams, the Yule Ball, and the added stress of the Triwizard Tournament, the last thing Harry needed was another distraction. Hermione nearly had a fit when he told her he hadn't yet begun Snape's foot-long essay on the use of unicorn horn in ritualistic magical societies.

"Well what else have you been doing, then, Harry? Honestly!" she shrieked, throwing her hands up in the air, forgetting that she was holding onto a rather large bottle of ink. He watched it soar into the fire, disappearing with a bang unnoticed in the rowdy common room.

"Err, let's see, I've been trying to figure out who in the castle is trying to off me, and then there's the tiny little problem of finding someone to go to the ball with, and then—"

Hermione waved her hand at him, shooing him off. "We've been over this, Harry, if you and Ron weren't such bloody buffoons you could have dates right now,"

Ron piped up from an overstuffed armchair, where Harry had assumed he had drifted off to sleep. "Like I've said before, all the good ones are already gone, who are we supposed to go with, honestly. We aren't going to be the two wankers who end up with leftovers…"

"I swear!" Hermione exclaimed, banging her book shut. "You two are the greatest oafs I have ever met! Mark my words, the day you two finally find the women you are meant to be with will be the end of the world as we know it,"

As Ron, visible only by his large feet, muttered sullen words at Hermione through a large down pillow, Harry heard the beginnings of a commotion outside the portrait. He tossed down the newspaper he had been combing through, following the noise out into the hallway. Stepping through the portrait hole, he was assaulted by the voices surrounding him chanting "Fight, fight, fight!". Peering over Seamus's rather large head, Harry saw what he first interpreted as a flying bush of fire facing off with an ice pick. Getting closer, it was none other than Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy, wands out, facing off in what would come to be known as one of the greatest near-fistfights in Hogwarts history.

"Do you get off by doing these things, Malfoy?" Ginny was screaming, raw anger burning in her eyes. Harry could feel the heat from the side, as she directed a wild gaze at the crowd that enveloped the pair. Her eyes fixated on him for one brief second before resuming their laser-like stand-off with Malfoy's cold grey orbs.

Malfoy looked bored, as usual, but his carefully set facial expression belied an internal wrath that seemed to rival that of Ginny's. "Well, Ginevra, certainly no one would get off by doing anything to you…even Potter couldn't put up with that, and you know his standards," he drawled lazily, backed up with a chortle from his always-present Slytherin cohorts. Malfoy shot a malevolent glare at Harry, who was having trouble breathing correctly. For some reason, watching the ferret insult Ginny was raising his blood pressure to a dangerous level.

Harry was joined by Ron and Hermione on either side, as the three of them looked on in horror to the spectacle.

"You and your rat friends better stay the bloody hell away from me, Malfoy! Or would you like to experience my Bat-Bogey Hex firsthand? The next time you touch my things, you'll be sorry you were born to your pureblood scum family!"

"Don't you even start on family, Weasel!" Malfoy said evenly, his eyes piercing darts into Ginny. "Blood traitors whose mums don't know the meaning of birth control spells have no place talking to those above them."

Ron started forward, only to be held back by Seamus and Dean.

"Shouldn't we help her?" Hermione whispered fervently while gripping the back of Ron's collar. "It feels wrong to stand here and watch this!"

Harry didn't know what to do, and he could barely hear Hermione over the pulsing of the blood in his ears. His eyes stayed focused on Ginny, watching for any sign of her beginning to crack.

"Somehow, Hermione, I do not think she will take kindly to being interrupted…" Neville whispered from behind them. "Besides, McGonagall's on her way up here,"

Apparently the rest of the students had heard this, and they dispersed quicker than if Peeves released a Dungbomb in the nearby vicinity.

"What…did…he…do...to…my…sis…" Ron was grunting against the strain of Hermione, Dean, and Seamus holding him back from pummeling Malfoy within an inch of his life. Harry ignored his best friend, and kept his hand covertly on his wand, ready to take Malfoy out of the game at any second. _If he raises his wand at her, I swear to Merlin…_

"Back to the same thing again, eh, Malfoy?" Ginny whispered, a more dangerous sound than her shrill tones. "Pure blood, dirty blood, traitor blood…it's still blood, isn't it? And what I wouldn't give to see it pouring out of your big empty head right about now."

Malfoy ignored her words. "The next time you mouth off to me in front of my friends, Weasley, you'll be even sorrier than you are right now,"

"And what makes you think I'm sorry, Malfoy?" Ginny said, grinning a twisted grin. "Everyone knows you pick on little girls because you can't run with the big boys…Daddy hasn't yet introduced you to the boss, has he? Tsk tsk."

Malfoy paled, grasping his wand so tight it looked on the verge of snapping. "You shut your filthy mouth, Weasley. Someone of your status has absolutely no right talking about things she knows nothing about."

"Oh, as if you know all about it, Ferret, it's not like the Dark Lord lets you sneak into their private meetings in your Dark magic mansion," Ginny said sarcastically, more color rising into her face.

"Stupid filthy girl." Malfoy spat scathingly, spittle flying out of his mouth. "How dare you? How dare you act like you know what you are talking about? When he returns, I guarantee you will be getting a taste of your own medicine, you harpy. Making you trip over your own shoes and breaking your ink bottles in the hallways of Hogwarts will be a distant memory, and you will lie bleeding on the ground wishing you had kept your mouth shut while facing a Malfoy!"

By now, the remaining crowd had gone silent, all staring in fear at the arguing pair. This was now less of an argument and more of a death threat, and Harry's veins roared with a battle cry.

Ginny stood stock still, absorbing Malfoy's words, when suddenly, she began to laugh. It was a harsh, unfriendly sound, that enveloped the listeners and made them take more than a few steps back.

"Draco Malfoy, the heir to the fortune, enlightening _me_ about _him_! Did it escape your notice that I was the one who communicated with him two years ago? I was the one under his spell? I was the one," she continued, her wand raising until it pointed directly at Malfoy's face. "I was the one! I was the one that your father gave the diary to, and I was the one that had to pay the price!"

"It was nothing less than what you deserved," Malfoy replied coolly, seemingly unperturbed. He had returned to his previous state of uncaring, while Ginny, on the other hand, seemed to grow more out of control. Hermione let out a moan.

"Harry, _do something!_" She whimpered in his ear, still clasping the back of Ron's shirt. "Someone is going to get hurt if we don't do something!"

If McGonagall hadn't appeared just then, someone might have.

"What is going on here?" The professor's severe gaze swept over the remaining crowd as stragglers melted away, leaving the trio and Ginny facing Malfoy.

"Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall began. "Your—"

"No need, Professor." Malfoy said brusquely, his wand on the inside of his cloak. "I'll be on my way."

"I'll be in contact with Professor Snape," McGonagall called out to his retreating form. She turned to face the members of her House. "What happened, Miss Weasley?"

"Nothing, Professor," Ginny grinned up at McGonagall; Harry noticed it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Miss Weasley, any more problems and you come to me, understand? It is not your place to discipline."

"Yes, Professor." Ginny turned her back on them as well, marching away to the open mouthed stares of her friends.

"Gin--"

"Ron, let her be," Harry muttered. "I doubt she's in a mood to be questioned right now."

"She's my sister, Harry!"

"And she's our friend." Hermione ended the would-be argument. "Let's go back into the common room."

---

Ginny shivered in the wind by the lake, rubbing her hands over her upper arms in an attempt to warm herself. She didn't feel like moving her body enough to cast a warming spell, and much preferred the numbing cold seeping into her school robes.

She turned her face away from the wind, feeling it whip her hair into a merciless knot.

"_Blood traitor. Mudblood lover. Filthy."_

Malfoy's words echoed in her head. She didn't know why she was thinking twice about that foul Ferret, but she couldn't help it. What had she ever done to the Slytherins, besides being born into a less-privileged family? What gave them the right?

"All right, Ginny?"

She let out a gasp at the soft voice behind her, wheeling about and whipping out her wand in a matter of seconds.

Harry's gentle eyes crinkled at the corners in a smile. "Easy there, Gin, I would rather not be on the receiving end of one of your hexes."

She let out a chuckle, lowering her wand as Harry settled next to her, close enough that she could smell his pine-fresh scent. "Sorry, I suppose I'm a bit—paranoid."

"I would be too, if I had a go at Malfoy like you did,"

Ginny eyed him with a calculating gaze. He wasn't accusing her of anything, she could tell he was simply making an observation.

"I didn't start it, you know, he was the one who decided to put a Leg-Locker curse on me in the middle of the hall,"

Harry gritted his teeth. _That foul git._ "He's a nasty piece of work, isn't he."

"Yes he is." Something in her tone made him look her in the eyes.

"He didn't hurt you, did he, Ginny?"

Ginny let out a mirthless laugh. "Hurt me? Of course he hurt me, Harry, you've heard the Muggle saying, haven't you? 'Sticks and stones may break my bones—' "

"But words will never hurt me," he finished for her, grabbing a stick off the ground and carving into the grass. "Bollocks."

"Pretty much, yeah," she agreed, watching him draw out figure eights. "I just don't understand why I dwell on things he says, he's not worth it."

"He most certainly is not. I know I can't say much to make you feel better, but know that he's an arse, and you're the opposite. In fact, you're quite the opposite."

"Oh really now, Potter? What does that make me? A banshee?" Harry flushed at her words, mumbling something to the ground.

"What was that?"

"I said, you're incredible, Ginny. You're beautiful, smart, and charming, and Malfoy's just jealous you won't get with him," Harry's blush disappeared, and his deep eyes bore steadily into her own. "Don't let him get to you, Gin. We need you sane and on our side."

Ginny couldn't remove herself from his piercing gaze. She nodded, lost in the depths of his green eyes.

Harry broke the moment, throwing down the stick. "You're freezing, take my jacket."

Ignoring her protests, he wrapped his large black jacket around her shoulders, laying back in the grass. She stretched out beside him, her hand touching his.

They lay like that for close to an hour, in uninterrupted peace. Harry looked over to see Ginny sound asleep, cuddled up with his jacket around her shoulders. He slowly reached over and held her hand in his, warming up her cold fingers.

Harry cherished the rare magic of the moment. Plain and simple, he cherished Ginny Weasley.


	7. Wedding Bells and Fainting Spells

**Title: Wedding Bells and Fainting Spells**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: Dialogue throughout the wedding days of Harry and Ginny. After of all, it **_**is**_** their wedding. **

**A/N: Please review on these last few chapters, let me know how you feel about this series! I love you guys!**

------

"You do realize this is _my_ wedding, Hermione?"

"Well, yes, but--"

"Ron's already doing his part to control it, I don't need my best friend doing so as well!"

"Yes, well--"

"I know how to plan a wedding."

"I'm sure you do, Ginny."

"I do!"

"I'm well aware!"

"…where in the name of Merlin's pants am I supposed to get a wedding cake?"

_Sigh._

---

"Ron, you cannot keep me from kissing my husband on my wedding day."

"I will give you twenty Galleons to keep from snogging my best mate in front of my face. Otherwise, you will be the one to clean up the vomit."

"Shut your trap, Ronniekins! I had to watch you snog Hermione without breathing for approximately twenty seconds _in front of Mum and Dad_ on YOUR big day so I'm entitled to my time too!"

"But…but…this is different! You're my sister! If he kisses you in front of me, I'm entitled to one of Hermione's famous right hooks."

"You attempt to assault my husband and I will ensure that you will not be able to reproduce."

"Ah."

"You have to accept the fact that as husband and wife, Harry and I will--"

"Don't say it! Don't--"

"—consummate our marriage."

"EW!"

"What? We already have, it's just a figure of speech."

"…"

"Ron, are you alright? Bloody hell, you look like you're going to faint."

"My best mate…and my little sister…"

"Basically, what I'm trying to say is that kissing should be the least of your worries. I think I'll pay a visit to Madam Malkin's new lingerie shop, I want something smashing for our wedding night." _Grin._

_Thud._

"Mum! Ron fainted."

---

"I wonder if they use real hippogriffs for this hippogriff-print…"

"Luna, I doubt that. Pants made of real hippogriff fur might chafe a bit."

"Ginny, what do you make of this one?"

"What's on it? It looks like it was hit with a pimple curse."

"It's leopard-print, Gin."

"Leper?"

"No, leopard. It's an animal. I used to see it at the Muggle zoo."

"Ah. No. Looks hexed."

"This one!"

"Luna, that is a shopping bag."

"Oh. It's rather pretty though."

"Is this the front of it, or the back?"

"Hermione Granger-Weasley! Have you never bought lingerie for yourself?"

"Well…"

"Oy, I'm the one just about to get married, and you're the prude!"

"I am no prude, Ginny Weasley! I am a classy woman. Luna, please refrain from trying those on over your trousers."

"Are they supposed to go on top or on bottom?"

"That would be a brassiere. So it goes on top."

"Ginny, this is so exciting! A brassiere! You should buy one."

---

"George. You will not, under any circumstances, let loose one of your firecrackers. Those are for emergencies only, and you will be responsible for comforting the startled children afterward if you do choose to ignore my words."

"Understood."

"Percy, no matter how many owls you get from the Ministry on official duty that day, you will still attend my wedding."

"But what if—"

"No."

"But--"

"NO!"

"Alright then."

"Fleur, keep your sister away from Neville, because he seems to get rather flustered and tongue-tied, and trips over his feet, and falls down, and--"

"Ginny, I get ze point."

"Moving on, then. Harry? Have anything to say?"

"Yes I do. Hello, everyone."

"Dears, can we get on with this, I really must go and finish that shepherd's pie, it's just sitting out there stirring itself and waiting for me to get back…"

"We'll be done shortly, Mrs. Weasley. We called this family meeting for a reason, we just want to make it clear, as a team, what we're expecting on our wedding day."

"Not that we think you'll muck it up, Mum, but just to be clear."

"You've made that clear."

"Shut up, George."

"You shut up, Ginevra."

"Okay, both of you…anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah. Ron."

"Yeah mate?"

"Don't make Hermione mad tomorrow. We don't need a third Wizarding War to break out on our happy day."

"Right."

"And Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Don't piss off your boyfriend tomorrow, all right?"

"Hmph!"

"I think that's all we've got…Gin?"

"Yes, I'm done. Did we--"

BOOM.

"Mum. Maybe we should take Teddy's toy wand away from him tomorrow, too."

"Right you are, dearie."

---

"Today's the day, Potter."

"Indeed, WEASLEY."

"Are you ready?"

"The question is: are YOU ready?"

"I'm the one who planned the entire thing."

"I think you mean Hermione planned the entire thing after you told her your favorite colors."

"Yet she still attempted to put a pink flower on me a few moments ago."

"Ginny, you're not going to run out on me, are you?"

"Why? Were you planning on running out on me?"

"It would look quite terrible, wouldn't it. The Boy Who Lived leaving The Girl He Loves at the altar?"

"As would the accompanying headline, The Girl He Loves murders The Boy Who Lived over The Wedding That Wasn't."

"Do you really want to be my wife, Ginny Weasley?"

"Do you really want to be my husband, Harry Potter?"

"If I said no, you would hex me."

"And if _I_ said no, you would cry."

"Would not."

"Would too."

"You'll be happy as my wife. You can yell at me all the time now for not pairing my socks together."

"You'll be happy as my husband, we can shag all the time."

"Well, we better get on with it and make you Mrs. Potter soon then."

"Oh, I see! So if we didn't shag you wouldn't marry me?"

"Gin, I would marry you even if we didn't touch. All I want is to wake up with you beside me every morning and to have you as the first thing I see every day."

"Oh gods, Hermione made you read that Lovers for Life book."

"Yes, yes she did."

"I love you, Harry James."

"And I love you, Ginevra Molly."

"Let's get this show on the road then, shall we?"

"I can see my enthusiasm for Muggle sayings has rubbed off on you, has it not?"

"Also your fondness for herbal teas."

"Ah. Let's get married."

"Lead the way."

---

"I would say that was a successful wedding, wouldn't you, Mrs. Potter?"

"Besides the band being late, the cake being lopsided, and George 'forgetting' the firecrackers that were under Percy's seat, yes, that was quite a success, Mr. Potter."

"What on earth are you doing?"

"I'm trying to get this dress off, which would be easier if Mum wasn't still holding on to my wand. Where's yours?"

"With Ron. I suppose we ought to be more careful with where we leave them, eh? How much time do we have til the reception?"

"A half hour, Hermione says we should make a grand entrance. Most people are on their way over there right now, and apparently the Daily Prophet got there first."

"Wonderful."

"Well they did offer to pay top dollar for our first wedding photos,"

"Which we refused."

"Yes, because we contain much more moral fiber than that."

"They're going to get a hold of them anyhow, aren't they."

"Well yes. Most of our guests had cameras."

"Gah."

"Part of being in the public eye, I suppose. You would know, Mr. Boy Who Lived Twice."

"You've gotten used to it as well, and if you haven't, then you will soon,"

"Right, right…can I have a little help getting out of this dress, please?"

"Well, Gin, I was hoping to wait til tonight…"

"Oh shut up you overgrown toad, no shagging before the reception. I just need…*grunt*…to get…out…*grunt*…of this…"

_Rip._

"Er."

"HARRY!"

"I'm sure it can be fixed!"

"Don't you dare try a spell on this, I'll give it to Hermione. I love you, but I trust her with this."

"Oh thanks very much, my male ego appreciates it."

"Welcome. Now, help me zip up this dress, Hermione picked it out, you like?"

"How…brightly colored!"

"I like it!"

"I do too! Purple works very well on you."

"So how do I look? Shall I twirl around like in your Muggle films to give you the full view?"

"Merlin…Ginny…you look stunning."

"More stunning than the wedding dress?"

"No, I have to say everything you wear makes you look stunning. You could wear a dustbin and still look like a lady."

"Oh flattery, how I do love it. Come on, come on, we've wasted enough minutes as it is. I have no patience for a grand entrance."

"Ready, Mrs. Potter?"

"Ready, Mr. Potter. Onward!"


	8. Sleepless Nights and Haunted Eyes

**Title: Sleepless Nights and Haunted Eyes**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: Ginny's in a mood, and Harry intends to find out why. A bit angsty, and a bit funny. **

**A/N: Why hello! It's been too long. Hopefully you all haven't tired yet of this story. This chapter is set in Harry's fifth year and Ginny's fourth. Please, please review. I'm getting back in my writing spirit and it would certainly be boosted by your words!**

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Ginny Weasley was in a snit. When Ginny had her moods, most of the school's population found out through snappish interactions with the normally vibrant young woman—or a well placed Bat Bogey Hex that they really should have seen coming.

This time, her anger was directed at Snape, Potions, and just the general Hogwarts population who didn't know how to walk in the hallways without clustering into large groups and blocking her path.

So what if she had to pull out her wand to make her way back to the common room? Perhaps next time they'd learn to _move_, she reasoned.

Clambering over the step in the portrait hole, Ginny was an awkward figure weighed down with books, quills, and anger. She mumbled to herself, face twisted in a sneer, as the students hastily disbanded from the sofa facing the fireplace and she dropped into it, throwing her schoolbag dangerously close to the crackling flames.

"Bloody stupid…_Professor_ Snape…Calming Draught…sixty points…"

"Trouble, Gin?"

She swore and turned around, catching the eyes of a very amused looking Harry Potter standing with his hands in his pockets. He looked very adorable just then, smirking a very Malfoy-like smirk, his hair tousled as usual…_no_. She stopped her thoughts in her tracks.

"If that blasted _Professor_ Snape takes any more points from Gryffindor because of me, I'll push him off the top of the Astronomy tower! Mark my words,"

"Your words are indeed marked," Harry remarked casually, throwing himself on the sofa next to her. His long legs sprawled out towards the fireplace, and he teasingly pulled a lock of her russet-coloured hair. Harry had been the only one to ever deal with her during her bouts of insanity and she was dreadfully grateful for it. "So what else is wrong? Can't very well just be that oily git,"

She didn't respond, choosing instead to stare at the fire until white spots danced and twirled in front of her eyes.

Harry studied her, taking in her drawn face and pinched lips. "Ginny, have you been sleeping alright lately? Lavender was saying something about you waking up screaming this morning,"

Ginny flushed a brilliant shade of red, and to anyone who didn't know her it would seem she was embarrassed. But no, once again, Ginny Weasley was angry.

"Bloody Lavender needs to learn to keep her mouth shut!" She snapped, nose turned up. "Just because I've had trouble focusing lately…" Ginny spluttered. "I hate her,"

"No you don't," Harry replied, not afraid of the volatile girl next to him. "You just don't like anyone thinking of you as weak,"

"Oh, so you think of me as weak, do you?" Ginny said sarcastically, drawing herself up to her full seated height. Harry was still quite a bit taller, and she quickly deflated.

"Not at all, Gin. But for a fourth year you certainly have been through quite a bit," he said, his face pensive. "What were you dreaming about last night?"

Ginny shuddered, a ripple of tension running through her body that, had it been anyone but Harry sitting beside her, would have gone unnoticed. As it was, he scooted closer, putting a gentle, reassuring arm around her shoulders. As he tried not to breathe in her enticing, _cinnamon-scented_ fragrance, he instead caught her eye and was drawn into the sad, murky depths of her beautiful brown orbs.

"It was awful, Harry," she said, laying a soft, sweet-smelling head on his arm, face turned away. "He…we were in the Chamber again."

Harry closed his eyes, taking in her beautiful essence. He wished with all his heart, as he had wished almost every day since _that_ day, that she could have avoided that dreadful experience.

"It's over, Gin. It's over, the diary's gone,"

"Yes, but he's back, isn't he?" She whispered the words, craning her neck to stare into his eyes. Her lips were inches away, tear-filled eyes close to spilling over.

"He's back, but it's not like last time. We can fight him, and we're older. It'll be okay, Ginny,"

"What if…" Ginny choked back a sob and avoided his eyes. "What if he comes back for me?" The words came out all in a rush and almost broke Harry's heart. "I know it's a damn cowardly thing to say, but…it's one of my biggest fears."

"He will never, ever hurt you again, Gin," Harry said, his eyes drawn to hers. "He will never touch you, never mock you, and I will make sure of that."

Ginny cracked a watery smile. "You and your hero complex, Harry,"

"Yeah honestly, I'm such a great bloke, hmm?" He grinned at her, glad to see the tears fading from her eyes. "But really, Ginny…we all have fears. I'm just as terrified as everyone else. In the end though, the Light always wins,"

"Too many romance novels, Potter," Ginny chuckled softly, resting her head against his arm in a comfortable manner. It was too horrifying to talk quite seriously about what they were both positive would come, whether in a few months or a few years. The lull in conversation was punctuated by the popping of the fire, as they lazily shifted positions so Ginny's head was now on Harry's shoulder.

"Ginny," Harry murmured, to a quiet "hmm" from the girl in question. "You said that was _one_ of your biggest fears. What's your biggest fear?"

Ginny looked at him with haunted eyes, her young face betraying emotion that he was positive he had never seen before. "You could've figured that out on your own, I reckon. It's losing the people I love."

At that moment, the peace and quiet in the common room was broken by the opening of the portrait hole, and in came the last person Ginny wanted to see at the moment. Well, one of the last people.

"Cho!" Harry spluttered, ears going red. He quickly withdrew an arm from around Ginny, almost reflexively. "How'd—how'd you get in?"

"Oh, Parvati let me in," Cho said cheerfully, grinning at the two and failing to notice Ginny's glare back. "I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"No, of course not," Ginny muttered into the opposite direction, turning back around. Harry's eyes were darting back and forth between the two girls, and Ginny knew he was weighing his decisions. Stay and comfort Ginny, _the poor little sister_ of his best friend, or go off to snog the beautiful Asian _sub-par_ Quiddich player. Ginny made the decision for him.

"Well, I'm off to bed, Harry. Nice talking to you," she said hastily, standing up and grabbing her bag. The mood between them was broken and Ginny had no intention to rekindle it with Chang standing a mere ten feet away.

"Ginny," Harry started, about to say something.

"I'm tuckered out, Potter, really. Goodnight, Cho," she said tiredly, following the stairs up to her room.

If she had been looking back, she would have seen Harry's worried eyes not on Cho, but on her.

"Ready to go then, Harry?"

Harry looked at Cho, smiling a forced smile. "Yes, of course,"

She linked arms with him, chattering away as they stepped out of the Gryffindor common room, and Harry pretended to listen. He couldn't help that his thought were of a certain redhead with troubled brown eyes who just happened to be his best friend's little sister.

**The end.**

**Please review!!**


	9. The Talk With The Weasleys

**Title: The Talk With The Weasleys**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: Harry and Ginny are caught in a bit of a compromising position…oh, what will the Weasley brothers and parents do? Hilarious conflicts and a surprise ending to keep you reading on! **

**A/N: This is a bit more general than the rest of the chapters, with the rest of the Weasleys thrown in. I personally found this quite hilarious and I tried to keep with their characters as much as possible. **

**To my readers: I definitely appreciate being favourited but you would do me a great service if, while you story-alert or favourite-story Pink Peppermint, you could leave me a review as well. I know many of you are reading this and I appreciate you all! Thanks so much!**

**Setting: A year or so post-war, or whenever you want after the seventh book.**

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"OY!"

The shout ripped through the Burrow, sending the gnomes who had been sneakily trying to re-cross the fence into the property scurrying back to their hiding places.

"_Where in the name of Merlin have all my bloody clothes gone?!"_

Ron was annoyed, especially considering that he was still dressed in his orange Chudley Cannons nightshirt. Now, usually, he would be ecstatic at the opportunity to spite his mother and walk around looking as if a giant firecracker had went off, but Hermione would be over in a matter of hours and he had to preen himself to perfection.

"Mum!"

"Ronald! Dear! I could hear you from the cellar!"

"I can't find any of my clothes, my robes are the only things still in my closet! Did the ghoul get out or what?"

Molly sighed noisily, her feet pattering on the wooden floor. She was holding a pair of fluffy rabbit ears attached to a headband. "I never thought you'd wake up early to dress up for a girl! Oh, how you've grown,"

"Mum, why do you have Ginny's old dress up things?"

Molly smiled, a little tear glinting in her eye. "She's not our little girl anymore, is she? I just wanted to show her and see if she remembered,"

Ron snorted unattractively. "Quite unlikely, she's not much for the sentimental things, eh?"

Mrs. Weasley's nose turned up and she marched away up the stairs towards Ginny's bedroom, clearly on a mission. "Quite right, Ron, then it's time for a reminder! Come on then, I washed your filthy clothes and put them in Ginny's room, she needs to practice her folding charms,"

Ron followed his mother up the stairs, mumbling to himself. It seemed that no one else was awake yet besides mother and son. The only others in the house were Harry, who had arrived a few days earlier, George, who was taking a break from the joke shop, Percy, who was on semi-permanent leave from the Ministry, and Mr. Weasley. The latter was currently snoring loud enough to wake the Lovegoods across the hill.

Molly knocked gently at Ginny's battered door, blackened from hexes that had almost hit her brothers before they had hastily slammed the door on them. Getting no response, she nudged the door open with her foot with Ron on her heels, intent on finding his clothes.

"Ginny, I—"

Ron gaped. His face turned beet red, and his ears looked as if they needed a good Aguamenti to cool down. Molly, on the other hand, was not quite as speechless.

"GINEVRA WEASLEY! HARRY POTTER!"

Ron, although speechless, wasn't blind. He hadn't failed to see his little sister, fiery red hair sprawled over the pillow, spooning with his currently shirtless best mate.

The fact that Harry jumped out of bed, startled, did nothing for his cause.

He was wearing boxers. And nothing else.

Mrs. Weasley spluttered. Ginny drew the covers up to her eyes. Ron's mouth opened and closed like a fish, and Harry's eyes closed in dread of the Avada Kedavra that was most certainly coming his way.

"Both of you, clothes on _now_." Molly snapped, averting her eyes and obviously trying to keep her temper. "Come down for breakfast and then we'll have a…" Molly rolled her eyes skyward. "…chat."

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley." Harry grabbed his shirt from its haphazard location on Ginny's desk, retrieved his socks from under the bed and closed his eyes briefly in shame before reaching under the blankets and pulling out his wadded up blue jeans.

Ron didn't trust his mouth with words yet, and so let Harry pass by him with a muttered "Pardon me".

"Ron, will you excuse Ginevra and I for a moment?" Mrs. Weasley's tone was clipped, and the bunny ears were shaking furiously in her trembling hand. Not wanting to be present for the verbal barrage, Ron turned on his heel and stalked into the hallway, not certain what his intent was but thinking something along the lines of _blood_ and _Potter._

----

"Mr and Mrs Weasley," Harry began earnestly, sitting as far away from Ginny as possible on the small, squished sofa. "I can assure you that nothing happened—"

"Yes, thank you, Harry," Mr. Weasley's tone was strained, and he was still in his too-short pyjama bottoms with his glasses askew. Breakfast had been a quiet, simmering affair, with Ginny glowering over her toast at the intrusion of privacy, as she had screamed at her mother earlier, and Harry boiling with fear of what was to come.

Ron, Percy, and George, on the other hand, alternated between murderous looks at Harry and rage at Ginny. As the youngest girl in a household of boys, she shuddered to think of what would happen to her boyfriend if she left him alone with her brothers, friendships aside.

Ginny had nearly come undone when Ron had pulled her aside after she had come downstairs, only to ask her a question in a very stern, Hermione-ish tone.

"Ginny, d'you…" _Ahem_. "You still have your…"

"My VIRGINITY, Ronald?" Ginny had spat in his face. Ron recoiled, looking for all intensive purposes like she was throwing flobberworms at him.

"Yes, yes, that—"

"I don't see how that is any of your _business_, you blubbering buffoon," she snarled, turning on her heel.

Ron was once again left open-mouthed in astonishment.

So naturally, as soon as Hermione had arrived after breakfast, his nice clothes forgotten, he was positioned at the doorway of the kitchen eavesdropping on the conversation the two lovebirds were having with his Mum and Dad.

"Ronald!" Hermione hissed in his ear. "Stop…that…" she tried to tug him away, to no avail. Ron waved her off much like he was shooing a fly, and insulted, she harrumphed and went off to the backyard to observe the gnomes. Shortly after she left, he was joined by his two brothers, all of whom looked like a good clobbering was in order for their _ex-friend._

Ears (or, ear, in George's case) pressed against the doors, they took in the murmurings of their parents and the squeaky, high pitched responses of Harry.

"Imperturbable Charm," Molly whispered to her husband, and with a nod of agreement, he sent the spell at the kitchen door, hearing a chorus of groans as it went. Footsteps scattered to other locations as the boys tried to find new positions to listen in.

"As we were saying," Arthur cleared his throat again, looking to Molly for guidance. He found none, as the woman was giving quite frightening glares to both the teenagers who were slowly, distinctively shrinking under her eyes.

"Oh for the love of Merlin," Ginny muttered, avoiding her mother's eyes. "We didn't do anything, Mum. I swear,"

Molly snarled, much to the chagrin of her daughter, snapping at the children. "Yes, then why was Harry without clothes and you were in your—" Arthur coughed again, louder this time. "_Undergarments._"

"We were just sleeping, Mum!" Ginny cried, to a hoarse "yeah" from Harry. "Promise, nothing inappropriate happened. I mean, sure there was a bit of cuddling and snogging but—"

Arthur turned beet red and held up his hand. "Thank you, Ginevra. Now, we called you here to discuss this event because…well frankly, we do not ever want to see this under our roof again."

"Or under anyone else's roof, for that matter!" Molly screeched suddenly, causing Harry to topple sideways on the overstuffed cushions. He reappeared from behind a particularly fluffy spot, glasses crooked and eyes wide.

"Erm…" Arthur looked confused. "Right. Never, ever…"

"Mum, Dad, we're adults," Ginny rolled her eyes. "We'll do what we want to do," she continued, ignoring Harry's frantically shaking head. He buried his head in his hands as it was apparent she was ignoring him. "Next time we'll just be more careful, then?"

Silence.

"NEVER." The words rang out with such a finality that even hot-tempered Ginny dared not to contest it. Molly Weasley's features were contorted.

"Never again will I see this sort of behaviour from my YOUNGEST daughter! And Harry, I think of you as a son!"

"Ew, Mum, we're not related, that'd disgusting!"

"I am very disappointed by this astounding disregard for our house rules! And as such, since I apparently cannot control what you do and _where_ you do it, your father and I will be forced to go over basic Contraceptive Charms and the Growing Wizard and Witch Manual with the both of you!"

Arthur's face lost all colour. "We…we will?"

Harry, on the other hand, looked greenish, a sickly colour that contrasted with his black hair. "You…you will?"

Ginny blanched. "Erm…"

And so it began.

------

When it was over, Harry left the room holding onto the wall as if unable to support himself. Ginny followed, four steps behind, as she was certain she would get a tongue-lashing if any closer to the boy.

Harry's painful procession was halted on the steps by the Weasley brothers, and looking into their glowering faces, all matching shades of magenta, he lost even more strength in his legs. Knees knocking together, he allowed himself to be led into Ron's attic room.

There was nothing Ginny could do. She resigned herself to his fate, and her own, as she was positive her mother was at Diagon Alley buying the Young Witch's Chastity Belt, complete with magical lock and key, as advertised in _that blasted manual_ at this very moment.

She sprawled on her bed, joined shortly by a still-disgruntled Hermione who lay next to her in companionable, sympathetic silence. Together, they listened to the yelling coming above, three very strong voices against one weak and seemingly protesting tone. Random words penetrated the ceiling, words like "…SISTER!" and "…so young!", followed by Percy's unmistakeable "…have you put in Azkaban for this!".

When the voices fell quiet, the girls waited with bated breath for a surely battered Harry to walk past the door on the way to his room. Surprisingly, he was accompanied by Ron, looking grudgingly like he would accept him back as a friend. At Hermione's questioning stare as they trudged past, Ron shrugged and stopped, letting Harry pass by while he leaned into the doorframe and studiously avoided his younger sister's gaze.

"Well, he said they didn't—you know, do it. I guess we're all right then."

"Charming, Ronald,"

He shrugged again, giving Harry's back an ominous look, and said "Well I'm still holding it against the bloke for the rest of his life," and then headed back downstairs, shuffling his feet.

"Goodness, Ginny," Hermione expelled a breath she had been holding. "They could have killed him,"

"They acted the same way when I started dating, too,"

"Right, but," Hermione propped herself on an elbow, leaning towards Ginny with an earnest expression. "This is _Harry_ and he was…he was in your _bed_!"

Ginny blew out a breath of air, moving the fringe out of her eyes. "We didn't _do_ anything, 'Mione! S'alright really, Mum and Dad'll get over it and so will the boys when they realize I'm not a little girl anymore! I can make my own decisions."

They lay in silence for a moment, then Hermione leaned forward again.

"So…you'll tell me, right? If you and Harry ever—"

Ginny snorted. "Yeah right, you'd tell Ron and he'd murder the both of us, bring us back to life, then do it all over again."

------------

Ginny woke early the next morning, sun streaming in through the cracked and dusty window in the corner. Stretching her arms, she yawned, missing the feel of Harry's warm body next to her's. However, they had both been keeping their distance in fear of the Weasley family's retaliation and she couldn't blame the lad for being frightened.

She was surprised to hear, then, a sudden scream from upstairs and thundering feet across the house. Jumping out of her bed, wand at her side, Ginny dashed out into the hall in her nightgown, bumping into Harry who was also wildly brandishing his wand, hair sticking straight up in the back.

"It's coming from Ron's room!"

They dashed up the steps to the top floor, bumping hips as they attempted to run side to side. The rest of the family was clustered outside of the room, goggling at the scene inside.

Mrs. Weasley's hair had come out of its night up-do and sweat was gathering on her brow as she addressed the scene before her, to the horror of the rest of the Weasleys and Harry. George, however, looked more as though he was going to explode in laughter than anything else if the upward pursing of his lips meant anything.

"HERMIONE GRANGER! RONALD WEASLEY! I'VE NEVER! RONALD, PUT CLOTHES ON AT ONCE, AND HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER, YOU, OF ALL YOUNG WITCHES! MERLIN'S BEARD!"

**The end. Teehee.**

**Please review!**


	10. Glorious Days and Good Mornings

**Title: Glorious Days and Good Mornings**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: Harry Potter was having a glorious day. Ginny was not. What will it take for him to notice? Fluff warning, I was extra sappy when writing the end of this one, my bad.**

**A/N: Set sometime in Harry's 6****th**** year, if possible. We'll just say that Harry and Ginny are dating, officially. Harry is a bit clueless in this chapter, so we'll say it's the early stages of their relationship.**

**Enjoy! And please, please review. **

**-------**

Harry Potter was having a glorious day. No, perhaps glorious was a bit too understated—his day was fantastic. Firstly, Transfiguration was cancelled so he need not worry about the footlong scroll he was supposed to have finished on the complexities of mammal to mammal changes. Second, Dobby came and informed him of a rhubarb pie surplus following lunch so he had gone and stuffed himself silly with Ron while Hermione tsk-tsked in the background, taking notes on the house-elf working conditions in the huge and airy room. He had caught barely a glimpse of Ginny before she was being whisked away by another fifth year to study for their upcoming exams at the library, but that glimpse had certainly lightened his heart even more. She had blown him a tired little kiss, and thrown a bit of a wink in there too, so while Ron stood there gagging he had simply smiled like a simpleton in her general direction. She really didn't look like she was getting that much sleep lately—he had meant to talk to her about it last night, but Ron and Seamus had played a rather interesting game of Exploding Snap that Harry was privy to. Ginny must have come in after midnight, so he just missed her.

And last but not least, he bested Malfoy on the Quiddich pitch during what was supposed to be a Gryffindor practice but naturally, the egotistical ferret had weaselled his way onto the field. Sadly enough, he had his pride dashed while Harry lapped circles around him, catching the Snitch three times to Malfoy's zero.

Ah, yes, it was a wonderful, astonishingly bright day.

But then…

Harry stared at the textbook, wishing he could jump into the fire with it and burn himself and the book altogether. Potions was the bane of his existence, as he was sure he would be perfectly fine if it wasn't for that slimy Snape, Dungeon Bat Extraordinaire.

So now, his mood was falling. Gradually, slowly, and steadily enough that he barely noticed when he snapped at the first year blowing his nose, and threw a quill at Seamus who was practicing levitation spells that inadvertently made him fall onto random people.

So when Ginny came along and plopped herself down next to him, exhausted after a day spent entirely at the library with a roast beef sandwich, bottle of pumpkin juice, and three feet of notes, he hadn't noticed he told her to bugger off.

Because no one ever told Ginny Weasley to bugger off. Especially not her boyfriend.

Scratching away at his parchment, Harry noticed a looming shadow blocking his light. He attempted moving the sheet, then tried twisting his body before he looked up into the face of a particular Weasley who looked about as happy as he felt at the moment.

He couldn't help it, he let out an inadvertent squeak at the thunderous expression in her eyes.

"What did you say to me, Potter?"

Harry searched his mind, thinking over and over. Did he accidentally say I love you? Oh, that would be bad, very very bad. Perhaps he said—

"Did you just tell me to _bugger. Off._"

The common room had gone alarmingly silent, as everyone gathered to witness the storm. Bets were already being placed on the winner, and since only the first years were foolish enough to bet against Ginny Weasley, the older years were making a fortune.

"Ginny, I didn't—"

"What gives you the right, Potter? You think your life is so terrible, eh?"

"Well, it is pretty bad, Gin," Ron piped up from the corner, not looking at all afraid for his life as Harry was sure he looked. He was squished on a corner sofa with Hermione and Neville, the latter of whom was looking at her with obvious fear in his eyes. "After all, You-Know-Who's after him again, Snape is being a git as usual, and Dumbledore—"

"Was I SPEAKING to you, Ronald Weasley?"

Ron fell silent, muttering something about women and their time of the month. Ginny scowled at him and turned back to Harry, raising her eyebrows.

"Do you know what I had to do today, Harry? In Care of Magical Creatures, I got to help Hagrid sift through the flobberworms to find the dead ones and squish them in order to get the 'magical juices' he kept talking about,"

The common room hummed in sympathy.

"And you know the funny part? There aren't any magical juices with flobberworm guts, Hagrid read the text wrong. So I squished flobberworms for an hour this morning."

The Gryffindors groaned in support, with more older years putting their Sickles down on the youngest Weasley.

Harry gulped. He had slept in until noon.

"Then, I was at the library all day studying for the exams and missed lunch. The kitchen portrait wouldn't open, and I finally had to hunt down McGonagall to get some food. D'you want to know what happened next?"

Harry wanted to shake his head, but instead nodded, as he was certain it would get him in less trouble than his other option.

"Bloody _Malfoy_ tripped me in the hall and made my bag tear and my ink explode all over my papers, which I needed, obviously. And since the last time I tried a cleaning charm I set the room on fire, I went to look for Hermione whom I found approximately half an hour later on the opposite side of the castle."

The students looked scandalized at this thought, and Hermione found herself accosted with stares in the corner.

"What? I wasn't hiding from her," she mumbled to Ron, eyeing the others.

"Oh, what's this, is this what put poor Potter in a bad mood?" Ginny said in a false sing-song voice that boded none too well, picking up the parchment with ink blots and cross-outs. "Potions homework? Perhaps if you PAID ATTENTION in Potions, Snape wouldn't pick on you so much, eh? Ever think of that? Or maybe you could start taking notes instead of relying on Hermione to do that for you, how about that?"

Harry's mouth opened but he didn't have a chance to say anything before Ginny rushed on.

"I know you're busy, but…" and Harry was surprised to see tiny tears shining in the corners of her eyes. "Instead of unconsciously telling me to bugger off when I'm trying to talk to you after a difficult day, might you be able to set aside five minutes so you can pretend to care?"

Ginny flounced out of the room, her face drawn and lips trembling. Hermione reached Harry's side, fighting her way through the arguing throng in the common room ("Weasley definitely won that one," and "Harry's a terrible boyfriend!"), and smacked him on the back of the head.

"Augh! 'Mione, what in the bloody—"

"Honestly, Harry, once in a while it wouldn't hurt to think about your girlfriend's problems! You aren't the only one with a difficult life, you know! Yes, maybe you're the Boy-Who-Lived, but remember there's others that live around you as well!" With that, she hurriedly followed Ginny out of the portrait hole, shooting Ron a dirty look as she went ("Bloody hell, what did _I_ do?!").

Harry watched the girls leave with a heavy heart as he heard the whispers and felt the stares behind him.

_I'm not a bad bloody boyfriend_, he reassured himself. _I—_

And then he thought about the last time a conversation with Ginny hadn't revolved around his workload, You-Know-Who, the Order and their plans for him, or problems with Malfoy or Snape.

_I'm a git_.

-------------

Ginny woke the next morning feeling rather refreshed, now that she'd gotten a load off her chest with Harry and spent the better part of an hour talking to Hermione. She knew Harry wouldn't come find her that night, because he knew as well as she did that sometimes she wanted her space, but she had secretly hoped he would.

_Boys never understand, do they_, she thought tiredly, wiping the sleep from her eyes. It was then that she noticed the owl hovering outside her window, tapping gently with one foot and a ribboned letter in the other.

A butterfly feeling in her stomach, Ginny hopped out of bed and unstuck the window, pulling the owl into the room and cooing at it. Opening the letter, she saw Harry's unmistakeable messy scrawl that he had tried to tame to some degree.

_Look out the window._

Ginny looked, and almost fell over in shock at what she saw. On a broomstick in front of her window was none other than Harry Potter, hovering while precariously balancing a picnic basket in one hand and a bundle of Ginny's favourite wildflowers in the other.

Smiling despite her residual anger, she leaned out the window and called to him.

"A good morning for a scenic ride?"

"I've been a right bloody git," he called back, straight to the point as always. "Come out here and I'll make it up to you, Gin. I'm terribly sorry."

And he did look sorry, with those puppy dog eyes and half-slept-in hair that was always too messy to tame.

Her anger melted a bit at the look in his eyes, and she knew that he really hadn't meant to ignore her. All was forgiven and he knew that her tempers rarely lasted but it was terribly nice of him, regardless.

"How long have you been out here, anyway?" She asked him, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders as he brought the broom closer to the window. Ginny took the basket from him as he steadied her, legs wrapping around the broomstick and one arm clutching to Harry's muscled chest.

"A few hours," he said over his shoulder nonchalantly as the wind whipped her hair into her eyes. "I didn't know what time you'd wake up and I wanted to be there,"

Ginny grinned, wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "Who knew the famous Harry Potter's a great big softie!"

"Only for a certain redhead," he shot back with a smile, directing them down towards the lake where the early morning sun was just beginning to glitter off the surface. She could make out what looked like a tentacle of the giant octopus protruding a bit from the middle of the water, and assumed he was still asleep as well.

Harry pulled out a blanket seemingly from nowhere and lay it on the ground, pointing her towards it as he unpacked the picnic hamper. Laying his broom next to a tree, he came and joined her in on the red fleece sheet, the colour contrasting greatly with her hair.

"Ginny, I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into me lately, but when you said last night that I didn't care about you my heart just stopped. You know I'd do anything for you, hell, I'd go to Voldemort's for noon tea if you asked me to,"

Ginny giggled, a bubbly noise that always made Harry's ears prick up. She grabbed an apple, taking a bite and laying back with her head resting across his chest.

"I'm the one who caused a scene, really. I do that often, Mum always says I need to learn to keep my temper,"

"I promise I won't tell you to bugger off anymore,"

"Better not," Ginny glowered at him for a moment before relaxing her face and turning it back towards the sun. "Mind you, I know you're allowed to have your off days as well but I suppose I was feeling extra sensitive last night. I can be quite foolish from time to time,"

Harry sat up, forcing Ginny to move her head and look at him. His mouth was narrowed and he didn't look too happy with her at the moment.

"Ginny. Come on now. You weren't being foolish. You should tell me how you feel, and there was nothing wrong with that. Yes, perhaps the common room was a bad place to tell me but I can be right clueless sometimes and I needed that."

Ginny squirmed, scooting down until the top of the blanket was even with her head. She threw a careless arm over her eyes, blocking out the sun that had suddenly risen without preamble, throwing the highlights of her hair into effect. "Sometimes I just need you, Harry, and I do feel that's foolish and silly and possibly idiotic because no self-respecting girl should ever _need_ someone else—"

Harry cut her off with a searing kiss that set her lips ablaze.

"Don't," he breathed, forehead resting against hers. His thumb rubbed the freckles on her cheek, and she closed her eyes while listening to the sound of his breathing and the birds just beginning to fly around the trees. "You're allowed to need me because I need you too. What would I do without you, Gin?"

She offered a weak smile, barely able to crack a joke. "Crash and burn?"

"Quite possibly, yes. I care about you so much, Ginny Weasley, and it doesn't make either of us weak to have those feelings for each other,"

"I suppose I'm used to being independent," Ginny whispered, her eyes still shut against everything but him. "And now that I'm with you, it's different from being with anyone else. I want to be _with_ you, and I want you to ask me how my day is and I want to know about yours. I've never felt this way before and—"

"And it's frightening," Harry stated solemnly as Ginny opened her eyes, brown meeting green. He was leaning over her, and she felt her heart flutter as she took in his sparkling, knowing eyes. "I know it is, trust me, I've never felt this way either. From now on, if I'm not being nice to you, you let me know, all right? I don't know what I'm doing sometimes, and you're what ties me back to the ground, you know? I suppose sometimes I'm just like a balloon, about to float away, and you're what keeps me from drifting."

"What's a balloon?" Ginny said, squinting. Harry chuckled and pulled her to him, smelling her sweet hair and cinnamon scented skin.

"Never mind, it's a Muggle thing. All I'm saying is that I'm sorry for being rude and I'm sorry for making you think I didn't care. Being with me doesn't mean you're not independent, it just means that you don't have to do everything on your own if you don't want to. I'm here if you want me to be here to help you out when you need it. If you ever, ever need to talk to me, I don't give a rat's arse if I'm in the middle of taking my OWLs or having a row with bloody Snape, just say the word and I'll be there,"

"The same goes for you, Potter," Ginny beamed up at Harry, and he found his heart beating oddly fast as he realized that her nightgown was almost impossibly sheer. The shawl barely covered her around, and he found himself looking at his girlfriend in a way that he was positive Ron would pummel him for. "We really should have had this discussion before, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. What can I say, we both lead such busy lives," Harry breathed as she caught his lips with hers in a gentle and powerful expression of emotion.

"We really do, yeah?" Ginny leaned back, running her gentle hands through his untidy hair, her lips slightly swollen and parted enough to make him feel emotions he felt almost guilty for feeling. "Promise we'll make time for each other at least for a few minutes a day, I miss seeing you."

"I promise, Ginny."

So they enjoyed the morning all by themselves, in their own little world with no outside stresses for once that year. Harry was more carefree than he had felt in a while, and when he once again felt the weight of the world on his shoulders he simply revisited their place, often taking his girlfriend with him to relive that sunny morning. And when Ginny would find herself back in the library, busy and studying away, she would look out the window and smile at the sight of the lake and the memories it would bring back.

Yes, that was a good morning indeed.

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**Reviews tend to make me tear up in joy. So please, rock my world. xoxo.**


	11. The Funeral

**Title: The Funeral**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: "If Harry could have looked into Ginny's heart at that moment, he would have found the most debilitating form of anguish." **

**A/N: Sorry for the angst. A friend of mine passed away a few days ago in a car accident and I needed to get it out somehow, I'm sorry if it sucks but I'm in a bit of an emotional state. I have a few other chapters written up but I also have huge exams this week…so stay tuned until this weekend and hopefully this doesn't turn you all off to my story. **

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"_Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us when we live."- Norman Cousins_

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Some people simply enjoyed being audiences to grief.

Perhaps they had good intentions, and maybe they felt the loss on a personal level themselves—but Ginny didn't care.

This was supposed to be Fred's private funeral.

And it was anything but.

-----

There must have been at least a thousand uninvited witches and wizards crammed right inside the Hogwarts grounds, not to count the staff, students, Order and Ministry members who had shown up as well. They were not even those involved in the Battle of Hogwarts—perhaps they felt involved because they too had feared for their lives under Voldemort's reign.

Ginny, however, felt different about their presence.

They were all present to see Ginny Weasley's meltdown and the strong, violent hexes she began throwing at the gaping crowd before her wand was ripped out of her grasp by none other than Harry Potter. He grabbed her around the waist, hauling her to the archway leading to the castle. Ginny struggled violently as Molly Weasley's tears came harder and faster as she watched her sobbing child.

They all heard her screams, as well.

"This is _not_ for the world to see!"

Yet they stayed, and they stared, but somewhere deep down perhaps they felt that they shouldn't.

-----

She cried.

Ginny shed more tears right then, in that dark archway with Harry, than she had ever before in her short and tumultuous years of life. She wailed, she shouted and she pounded on his chest with furious fists and he let her.

Harry held her to him, letting his robes become filthy with tears. He did not resist her violent beating, because he knew the rage she kept inside. He held onto her like there was nothing else to hold on to, and for a moment, he was her ground. She could not feel the cobbled floor beneath her feet and it was only him that was keeping her from flying up and away, leaving forever.

But he was there.

Her tears wouldn't stop, but they watched the funeral nonetheless from their vantage point right inside the school.

Ginny didn't look at the others, the ones that didn't matter. Her eyes were only on her family, on Hermione, the new Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, Andromeda and Teddy, Seamus, Dean, Lavender, Parvati, McGonagall—the ones that mattered. The ones who had also felt the pain of loss.

They were not here to spectate. They came to grieve.

-----

Soon enough it was over, and Ginny's wracking sobs quieted into sniffles. They waited there, watching as the sun set over the gloomy day. Neither felt like greeting the dignitaries who had come in support, or even talking at all.

So they sat in their silence with only tight grasps on each other to keep from falling apart. Harry would stroke her hair, the sharp red softened over the years to a darker colour, as she would lean into his touch, her black funeral robes rustling against her body. She would lay her head on his shoulder, that beautiful red head of hers, and close her eyes, just listening to the speakers on the hilltop below them. The tears dripped through her long brown eyelashes, filtering slowly down her cheeks and onto her neck, where Harry would catch them up with a finger and kiss her gently on the cheek.

If Harry could have looked into Ginny's heart at that moment, he would have found the most debilitating form of anguish. He would have seen that she was not only crying for her lost brother, but for the rest of those fallen in the war. He would have seen that she was also crying for the young boys and girls on the other side, the losing side, who would now spend their lives being punished for their life-altering decisions.

And he would have also found, in the cracks and crevices that were slowly being healed, that he was the one holding her together.

Harry was the glue that kept her heart from falling apart at the moments where it felt that nothing was right and it could never be again. And she knew, without vocalizing it, that he would always be there for her.

But for now, they nestled together, each other's only comfort on a day where sadness glittered in the tears falling from eyes caught in the last beams of the day's sun.

**The end.**

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**Please review, it would definitely make me feel better right now…I need your support! (not to guilt trip you or anything, I love you whether you review or not)**


	12. The First Child

**Title: The First Child**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: Ginny's first pregnancy, from start to end. What twists and turns will the Potters face along the way? Humour and extra fluff.**

**A/N: Reuploaded to correct the word omissions I just caught. Hopefully very realistic, not always funny and not always sad. We all want to know how Ginny's first pregnancy went down, and this is my take on it. Cheers! **

**I really appreciate all of your reviews, thanks so much!**

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"Gaaaah!"

Harry winced. He was sitting outside bathroom door, listening to the very irate witch inside empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

"Why did you bloody let me eat that?" A wail came from inside, and Harry flinched again, coughing into his hand.

"Will you let me at least come inside, Gin?" Harry pleaded, wiping the sheen from his brow. Perhaps he also came down with the food poisoning that Ginny seemed to have succumbed to, as he was feeling a bit nauseous himself listening to his wife's vomiting. "What do you need, Gin? Tell me and I can Floo to Diagon Alley, maybe grab some club soda?"

"If you don't recall, dear, Diagon Alley is what caused this problem in the first place!" A wretched sound came from inside again, and Harry gagged openly, closing his eyes. Sweat clouded his brow and he himself wondered why they had chosen the spiciest dish on the menu. His stomach made a squeaking, protesting noise and he covered his mouth with his hand, swallowing back the bile.

Silence reigned inside the bathroom, and Harry knocked quietly once more. "Ginny? Come on, open the door. It's not like I haven't seen you vomit before, there was that time you drank nearly a whole bottle of Firewhiskey and I was up half the night with you,"

"You saw that?" Ginny shrieked from inside. "You told me Hermione held back my hair!"

"Well, I—" Harry was flustered, tugging at his collar. "I didn't think you'd want to know that I saw that—"

"So why the bloody hell would you bring it up now?" Ginny had been oddly disagreeable lately, because unlike most women, she did not get into large snits about random events. Harry was therefore confused at her sudden change in tone, but his perplexity turned to sympathy as she was sick again, supposedly throwing up her internal organs now as well.

"That's it, Gin, I'm coming in," Harry said, standing up and muttering _alohomora_ at the lock. It clicked open, to Ginny's muted protests, and Harry entered, ignoring the smell and focusing on his wife.

Poor Ginny was hugging the toilet, face pressed against the side. Her face was flushed, and sweat was dripping from her brow into the toilet along with the contents of her stomach that Harry studiously avoided looking at. Clumps of her hair were dissociating from her loose bun, and curled tendrils framed her head like a halo.

Harry's eyes widened as she turned away from him, bending over the toilet bowl again. Being in such close proximity, he couldn't help watching in horrified fascination as whatever remained in her body exited through her mouth.

"Oh, bloody—" Harry couldn't hold it in anymore. As Ginny finished, leaning back and wiping her mouth, Harry decided to contribute to the marital bowl of sick.

"Merlin's beard, Harry, it looks worse when you do it!"

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"You're WHAT?!"

"Congratulations!" The Healer said cheerfully, grinning widely at breaking the news to the famous couple. "I'll give you two a moment."

Vanishing the chart, she exited the room, smiling at the stunned looks on their faces.

_Ah, young love._

Meanwhile, Harry and Ginny stared at each other in a sort of intrigued way, as if gauging how the other reacted. Ginny responded first, swallowing and laying a hand on Harry's arm.

"I…I thought we were using the Contraceptive Charm?" She said, attempting not to sound accusatory. Her mind was whirring, thoughts of her Quiddich career, Harry's Auror missions, and what Ron and her mother would say all hitting her at once.

Harry's mouth was rushing to catch up to his brain as he mumbled out a string of words. Ginny cocked her head to the side, attempting to decipher what her stunned husband was saying.

"I…I guess it wasn't food poisoning then, eh?" He said weakly after a prodding from Ginny.

They both stared at each other for a moment before Ginny gave in to the bubble of laughter rising in her chest. Chuckling, she stared at his bemused face and took in the slight amount of fear rising in his eyes.

"Harry," she said, settling down. "You don't think I'm angry, do you?"

"Erm," he avoided her eyes. "I suppose I should have been better with the charms…"

Ginny tipped his chin up with her hand, delicately tracing his jawline. "Harry."

He waited with bated breath for what was sure to be her famous temper.

"We're going to be parents!"

And in a rush, he felt his emotions flood into his eyes and was surprised to see his surroundings blur with tears as his pregnant wife threw herself into his arms, sobbing out loud in happiness.

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They decided to wait until the next Weasley family dinner at the Burrow to tell everyone, which was about two weeks later. It was most convenient, they had discussed, much more convenient than Flooing Ron who would tell Hermione who could pass it on to Fleur who would then tell Bill…well, it was simply better this way.

Ginny was surprisingly nervous, and smoothed her purple dress over her barely noticeable bump. The healer determined her to be about six weeks along at the time of the appointment, and she was feeling the effects of her first trimester quite well. She was extremely sensitive to smells, particularly, for some reason, the smell of cheese. It would make her vomit in a heartbeat, and although she had been given instructions on an anti-nausea spell, she was never in the proper state of mind after smelling the disgusting dairy product to put it to use.

Harry stepped into their bedroom, wrapping his arms around his wife and kissing her on the neck, grinning as a blush rose from her collarbone to her forehead. He placed his hands on her sides, feeling her hips and brushing his hands over her lower stomach.

"You feeling alright, Gin?" He murmured into her ear, nibbling gently on her soft freckled lobe. She let out a hum of satisfaction and sagged against him as he pulled her into his arms and spun her around. "You look rather ravishing,"

Ginny opened her eyes and looked her husband up and down, noting his attempt to flatten his hair and his elated green eyes sparkling in the candlelight. "You don't look too awful yourself, Mr. Potter. I'm feeling well, just…a bit nervous, I suppose,"

Harry chortled, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. "Why nervous? It's not like they weren't expecting it, we're married after all,"

"Well yes, but…" Ginny struggled for words. "We're so young!"

Harry smiled at her gently, knowing her fear. "You'll be just as good of a mother as your mum, you know. No matter what age. And you can always go back to Quiddich after he's born—but the Daily Prophet offered you that wonderful spot as a reporter!"

Ginny nodded, then did a double take. "After _he's_ born?" She snapped, suddenly switching moods. "What makes you think, oh, great Harry Potter, that this child will be a boy? Didn't you flunk Divinations, or did you get your Seer's license soon thereafter?"

Harry's eyes widened. "Erm…sorry?"

Ginny nodded imperiously. "Alright then. Let's get a move on." She held her arm out, expecting him to latch on to Side-Along Apparate. Harry sighed, closing his eyes as he did so. He had been especially quiet about her little quirks that bothered him lately, whereas before they would battle it out and end with a furious makeout session under the covers. The last time he had accidentally picked a fight with her, about four days ago, he ended up sleeping on the couch with a shrill alarm piercing his consciousness at six in the morning, causing him to roll off the couch and into Ginny's favourite china cabinet.

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The moment they stepped foot in the Burrow, Harry felt Ginny cringe. He wrinkled his nose as she did, attempting to sense her source of discomfort.

He spotted it, in a large cauldron of what looked like pure cheddar cheese melting on high heat.

Ginny coughed, exhaling and attempting not to inhale again. While she was deciding whether holding her breath was good for the child inside her or not, Molly bustled up and wrapped her arms around her youngest daughter and son-in-law.

"Ginny dear! I owled you last night and you never got back to me! Looking a bit peaky, are you? Miss Bumpkins saw you at the potions shop in Diagon Alley, was worried about you too…are you getting enough rest?"

Not waiting for an answer, Mrs. Weasley turned on Harry, who withdrew under her piercing glare. "Harry Potter! What have you been doing to yourself? Every time I see you, you get thinner and thinner!"

Harry heard a muffled laugh from behind Mrs. Weasley and spotted Ron, stuffing his mouth with Cauldron Cakes, snorting at his mother's words. She turned to him next, as his eyes widened and mouth opened and closed rapidly in an attempt to chew.

"And you, Ronald! Lay off the cakes, hmm? Your wife won't appreciate that belly!" She snapped, bouncing away to look after the bubbling pot of cheese. Following her with her eyes, Ginny dry heaved as she saw the product, closing her eyes in dismay.

Quickly, Harry muttered the anti-nausea spell he had memorized earlier in the day and Ginny was relieved to find that she could stomach the smell a bit better than before. She gave him a tiny smile of gratitude before walking over to Hermione, who was seated on the floor next to Teddy, and throwing her arms around the other woman.

Ron wandered over to Harry, who was looking over at the gathering in the living room. Fleur and Bill had recently relocated nearby, and were currently seated across from each other, each reading a section of the day's Daily Prophet. George and Percy were heatedly discussing politics in the back corner with their respective wives rolling their eyes every few minutes. Victoire was throwing blocks at Teddy Lupin while Hermione batted them away unconsciously, chatting with Ginny.

"Y'know," Ron started, cake flying out of his mouth. "Ginny's been awful strange lately. Saw her yesterday at the Daily Prophet, when I was going to talk to that bat Skeeter again, and she was muttering to herself like a mad witch,"

"Erm, yeah," Harry covered up the news. "Well, she's switching positions for a bit, the Harpies are letting her try out this position at the Prophet,"

"That's strange, though, isn't it mate?" Ron mused, his tongue pressing against his teeth in an attempt to get residual crumbs out. "She wouldn't give up Quiddich for anything,"

Harry was saved by Mrs. Weasley calling out for dinner, and one by one they filed into the sitting room, Mr. Weasley already eagerly seated at the head of the table. Harry was greeted by the various members of the family, and hoisted Teddy up into his arms for a proper greeting. Ginny's eyes met his as Mrs. Weasley levitated the large, bubbling cauldron of cheese to the middle of the table and cheerfully informed the family that they would be trying a new Muggle recipe Fleur discovered called "fondue".

Ginny gritted her teeth as Mrs. Weasley shovelled an abnormally large amount of melted cheese into her bowl.

"Eat up, dearie!"

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After Ginny had silently Vanished her plate of food while her mother wasn't looking, she felt much better. She eyed Harry, who was currently ladling cheese into his mouth at an alarmingly Ron-like rate. Hermione was eyeing him with disdain.

After the last plate was emptied and conversation had lulled into a satisfied silence, Ginny cleared her throat with a little cough. Everyone turned to her, faces lighting up at the youngest Weasley's brilliant smile.

"Well, erm…Harry and I have a bit of an announcement to make,"

Harry grabbed her left hand under the table, squeezing it and making her heart pump faster.

Naturally, Ron interrupted the moment.

"Right, you got a new job, eh, Gin? Congrats!" He said happily, not noticing the annoyed looks of the rest of the family.

"Well…that's wonderful, dear!" Mr. Weasley piped up, throwing a look of exasperation at his youngest son as Hermione hissed "_Honestly, Ronald!"_ . "Where at?"

"Prophet," Ginny replied through gritted teeth. She aimed a death look at Ron, who looked utterly nonplussed. "Quiddich reporter."

"Why would you give up Quiddich, Gin, to be a reporter?" Bill chipped in from the end of the table, eyeing her with intrigue. On the other side, Hermione was giving her a beady eyed glare, and Ginny was certain she already knew.

"Well, Mum, Dad, that's the big news," she aimed her response at her parents, nervous to how her brothers would respond. "I'm…I'm pregnant."

Silence reigned the table, and even Teddy abandoned clinking together his silverware in favour of staring openly at the couple.

Then all hell broke loose.

Chairs were overturned as the family rushed towards the seated couple to offer their congratulations, and Harry attempted to hide under the table as his back was pummelled by well-wishers thumping him repeatedly, disregarding his "oomph!"s of pain.

Mrs. Weasley was openly weeping, declaring the day "a national holiday for the Weasley family" as Mr. Weasley was equally teary-eyed, grabbing up his daughter in his arms and proclaiming how wonderful it was that his youngest child was going to experience the greatness of parenting. Hermione was shrieking, standing on her chair and chanting "I knew it! I knew it!" as Ron was roaring in glee, pulling his wife off her perch and doing a shuffling jig with her in his expression of joy. George pulled out his wand to set off some celebratory fireworks but put it away hastily at Angelina's look of fierce disapproval, which disappeared as she and Percy's wife headed toward Ginny to offer their best wishes.

As Harry finally disappeared under the table, accidentally pushed by one too many happy brother-in-laws, Ginny was being squished by Percy and Fleur at the same time and found herself realizing that there was nowhere else she'd rather be at this moment.

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Harry felt a great deal of sympathy for his wife as she entered her second trimester. Her ankles were swelling to a size that he was sure was uncomfortable to her, and the healer had given her potions for the swelling that made her quite dizzy if she stood up too quick. She spent more days working from home, leeway provided by the Prophet office, and less time actually working on the articles which were nothing of a challenge to her at all. Instead, she spent her time worrying.

When Harry would arrive home in the evening, slipping off his shoes in the foyer and throwing an arm around his wife, she would accost him with questions.

"What if our child is born disfigured?" She would demand of him, and his mouth would gape open, and he would frantically ask what happened. Waving off his question, she would purse her lips in annoyance and reiterate with

"No, just what if?"

It drove Harry mad, because thinking of the worst case scenario for their son or daughter was not the most pleasant way to spend his time. If it wasn't that, it was "What colour should we paint the room?" which seemed like a harmless enough question until it was followed up by "And what if the paint fumes are poisonous?".

Ginny had too much time on her hands, Harry felt, and shared this thought with Hermione who immediately branded him as rude and self-centered.

"Harry Potter!" She exclaimed, scandalized. It was rather hard to take her seriously, however, as she was wearing raggedy robes from her Hogwarts days with a dishtowel covering her hair, dusting off the highest level in her and Ron's bedroom bookshelf. "She's terrified, obviously! You shouldn't get angry with her, it's only natural!"

"Well, I'm worried too, but you don't see me going around asking her nutty questions!" He shot back, collapsing into a chair. He immediately darted back up and ran to where Hermione had been standing a moment ago, catching her before she hit the floor. She blushed in embarrassment, coughing slightly.

"Erm, dust just got into my throat…" Harry released her onto her feet, shaking his head in amusement.

"Ron would've had my head if I'd let you fall,"

Hermione studied him, a knowing smile coming onto her face. "You're asking yourself the same questions, aren't you? That's why you're angry she's saying them out loud, because you don't want to think about it!"

Harry's eyebrows shot down. "It's not a very pleasant thing to vocalize—'Hello Ginny love, let's discuss possible problems with your delivery or what foods can kill the child in the first week of birth!'."

"You realize she's just as scared as you are."

"Yes, I know."

"Talk to her about this, Harry. It's important to know that you're on the same page,"

"Always with the book analogies," he muttered more to himself than his friend, but she swatted him with the duster anyway, climbing the precariously wobbly chair to continue dusting.

Harry went home to find Ginny waiting, as usual, with an onslaught of questions, but this time he noticed the fear in her eyes and caught her mouth before she could start talking with a kiss.

"I know you're worried," Harry murmured softly into her lips, hands caressing her bulging stomach. "But let's take this one day at a time, because the more you worry the more terrified I get too."

They talked late into the night, researching, discussing names, problems, and solutions, even the ridiculous ones that Ginny had like "What if Voldemort comes back?" and Harry's occasional "But what do babies eat?".

When they finally fell asleep, baby books spread all over their thick carpeted floor and Harry cuddling Ginny protectively against his own body, it was a more peaceful rest than either of them had gotten in a while.

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At eight months, Ginny was larger than her petite frame implied, and turning sideways in a mirror was horrifying for her. She was increasingly sensitive, bursting into tears when George jokingly said she looked like Umbridge and running from the room as quickly as her stomach let her, with Molly Weasley smacking George with a wooden spoon to the head none too gently. She had a voracious appetite, and one late night Harry had come home to find her sitting on the kitchen counter mixing pumpkin juice with mincemeat pie in a blender. His gag reflex had kicked in but he held it down for her, seeing Ginny's contentedness at her odd and slightly disgusting combination of food. If he stared at her too long, though, she would snap at him, asking if she was too fat to be attractive anymore and lashing out at him for the bit of a belly he had grown from Mrs. Weasley's delicious grub that came often now that Ginny was too tired to cook every night.

Often, Harry would find her in the bedroom, parchment balanced on her stomach scratching out the latest weekly Quiddich report, and he found her so endearingly adorable with her pink tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth and mothering glow radiating from her body that he couldn't help throwing himself next to her and kissing her like his life depended on it.

She insisted upon not finding out the gender of their child until the very last moment, and he agreed with her, wanting a surprise in that aspect. They decided a few names, for a boy and a girl, the boy's being James Sirius and the girl as Lily Luna, after the wonderful caregiver Ginny had for most of her pregnancy and the woman they decided to make their child's godmother.

The night he felt his child kick was the most magical moment of his life, and even Hogwarts couldn't compare. The look of wonder in both of the parents' eyes was beautiful to behold, and when Ginny Flooed her mother in excitement at two o'clock in the morning she immediately Apparated over in a bedraggled nightdress with her nightcap still hanging haphazardly off her head to feel the magic herself.

Luna had taken to coming over more often, now that Ginny was getting to the point where she should be more sedentary, often bringing along her own research work to accompany Ginny. Her husband Rolf would come over to check up on the women during his breaks, and often stayed for dinner. Harry would arrive home to find them all poring over their work, with Ginny giving him a dazzling smile and Luna looking up at him with faraway eyes.

One night he arrived, and in alarm, found Ginny crying on the couch with Luna hovering over her murmuring reassuring words. Rolf was filling up a cup with water and preoccupied with dampening a towel to lay over the pregnant woman's forehead. Harry caught Luna's eye and found her worried, an emotion he could barely associate with Luna Lovegood.

She had pulled him aside, whispering quietly so not to alarm the young witch further, saying hastily that contractions were beginning and she was no Mediwizard but it was too early and she needed St. Mungo's immediately.

Harry had never felt so much fear at one moment in his life, not even when facing You-Know-Who himself at the final battle.

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Ginny spent the night under observation at St. Mungo's with the entire Weasley family shoved into the tiny waiting room, children and all. Harry refused to stay inside with them, preferring instead to pace back and forth outside Ginny's door, alarming patients and healers alike.

The Mediwizard assured Harry that early labour was common in young first-time mothers, and that she was safe if she did not leave her bed.

This did not bode well for Ginny Potter, who had never been confined to bed rest in her entire life.

Harry was determined to take the rest of the month off of work and look after his wife, but Ginny pressed upon him the importance of not annoying her at this particular time and he let it go, allowing himself to be talked down to taking every other day off of work.

The Weasleys alternated days spent with Ginny, who was supremely irritated at her position. Percy was the worst to spend a day with, because each time she shifted she was rewarded with a scrutinizing look and a handful of Floo powder as he would pop his head into Mrs. Weasley's kitchen and ask if this or that was normal for Ginny to be doing. Once Ginny was so fed up with the overprotective big brother that she chucked the nearest book at his head, which happened to be Harry's thick and heavy Auror training manual, and gave Percy quite the lump which he wore graciously, to his credit.

Harry spent his days off discussing Quiddich, politics, or Muggle activities with his wife, who had grown increasingly interested in everything now that she had nothing to do but lie in bed and read every book that Hermione brought over for her. They would lie together in bed, under the covers, and Harry would only move to help Ginny to the bathroom or go himself, or perhaps fix a quick meal for the two of them. At night, he would barely sleep, instead making sure Ginny was comfortable and covered with the right amount of blankets, just the way she wanted it.

Ginny didn't let on that she knew he wasn't sleeping well, because she knew he wouldn't change anything about his system even if she demanded him to. She was oddly comforted knowing that should anything happen in the middle of the night her husband would be the first to notice, and Ginny would drift into peaceful, dreamless sleeps with that thought on her mind.

When it was finally time for the birth, Ginny was ready to get out of her bed. After all, what kind of former Quiddich player enjoys spending a month on a mattress, reading to pass the time?

-------------------

Harry winced. He was again in the same position, against the door listening to Ginny wail in pain. Only this time he was inside the delivery room, watching everything and once again stifling his gag reflex.

He carefully averted his eyes from the mirror down by Ginny's legs, studiously focusing on her face and brushing her hair away from the sweat clinging to her brow. As she screamed in agony and other four-lettered words that he could not bring himself to repeat, he bore her crushing of his hand with good grace, even when she started screaming about his flawed contraceptive charms and how "_I wouldn't BE in this position if it wasn't for you, you bloody idiot!"_, because in the next breath she would apologize and start crying in pain once again. He would shout at the assistants who scurried away under his glare, asking how long it would take for the pain potion to kick in.

Eventually he blocked out everyone else: healers, Mediwizards, and assistants alike, focusing only on his beautiful wife, looking at the way she still radiated light and beauty even with sweat dripping down her face and curses flying out of her mouth.

Ginny did the same after about twenty minutes, still swearing but not focusing on what she was saying, stilling her gaze on her husband's hand in hers and feeling the numbing potion that was slowly taking effect over the lower half of her body. She looked up into Harry's green eyes and was surprised to see them filled with the same strong emotion she had seen at the healer appointment about nine months ago.

Shocked, Ginny realized it was _love_. Deep, powerful and permeating love, the kind that Lily Potter gave to her son when she sacrificed herself for him so long ago.

And with one final, silent shout, Ginny relaxed, and heard a faint crying start from somewhere down at the other end of the table. However, she had eyes for nothing except for her husband, who was looking at her with such pride and amazement that she felt herself lift up in his eyes.

And then the healer placed a bundle of jet black hair into her arms and pronounced him a boy, and neither parent could tear their eyes away from the child they had created.

It was a miracle, indeed.

It was love.

"Welcome to the world, James Sirius Potter," Ginny whispered, looking into the green eyes of her son. She felt wetness on her cheeks and noticed that not all of it was hers—Harry's tears mingled with her own as they put their heads together and looked at their baby.

"James…" Harry whispered, his voice cracking. Everything else was forgotten in that buzzing fluorescent room except for his wife and child.

And from that day forward, their lives were changed.

**-------**

**Please review! I know it was long but I wanted it to be real.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	13. Strengths and Weaknesses

**Title: Strengths and Weaknesses**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: Ginny never had weaknesses. Or at least, so she thought. Angst, fluff, and romance. **

**A/N: This is a transgression through time, in Ginny's POV. Thanks so much for the reviews, I appreciate all of your feedback and I do read it!**

**Please enjoy!**

**Also: just published the intro to a short Draco/Ginny called Fifteen Months, also another one called Sometimes and Always which is complete. Please review those, just click on my username and look up the stories, I hope you enjoy them! People are subscribing to the story alerts but not reviewing which makes me sad. **

**To us fanfiction authors, your reviews rock our worlds. Even if it's mean. (Please don't make it mean...)**

**Thanks in advance! xoxo  
**

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**Ginny**

Ginny never had weaknesses. She was very used to being the youngest in a raucous house of boys and if she showed her weaknesses, she would be relentlessly picked on.

So she made it simple: she refused to have a weakness.

The general population saw her as soft and quiet, occasionally fiery-eyed but never loud and temperamental.

However, her brothers knew the truth. Mess with Ginny and even magic won't save you from those tiny little fists that were bound to bruise and leave bumps for weeks to come.

Ginny didn't believe in weaknesses. She saw herself as tough, a little fighter that was often underestimated due to her size.

She also didn't understand that weaknesses weren't a bad thing.

Ginny was very young.

However, that one morning when she ran into the dining room before her first day at Hogwarts, yelling about her jumper, and she saw that slight black-haired boy with the ever present scar on his forehead, her heart gave a mighty lurch and her eyes matched her mouth in the perfectly round "O" they formed.

And when he spoke to her, ever so nicely, with that "Hello" that made her blush to from the roots of her carrot-orange hair to her tippy toes, Ginny was suddenly feeling very…odd.

Somehow, the young girl knew she had found a weakness.

--------

**Ginny Weasley**

Hogwarts was difficult. Not only was it emotionally trying to be involved with older men, as Ginny thought of her year-older boyfriends, but it was difficult juggling her personal life with academics. She spent time at the library, of course, but it rarely came to much for someone always found her with a new story to regale her with.

So when one day, deep into her third year, Ginny Weasley was actually getting work done, she let out a frustrated grumble of anger in her throat at the giggling coming from the study bench two seats over from hers, in the "Silence" section.

She gave it possibly three minutes before slamming her book shut, the noise reverberating through the quiet library. She waited, impatiently, for another sound.

She was not disappointed. A quick "Shhh" followed by insanely high pitched squealing drifted over to her ears, which were quickly turning pink with rage.

Ginny Weasley scratched her chair back on the cobbled floor and stomped menacingly over to the desk.

It truly made her wish she hadn't when she saw none other than Harry Potter with Cho Chang in his lap, snogging like there was no tomorrow. Ginny's mouth opened and closed in dismay, and she found herself desperately wanting to turn away and run.

So she did, feet echoing on the floor, and she heard a faint "What was that?" behind her but didn't stop until she had grabbed her things and headed to the very tip top of the Astronomy Tower, where she proceeded to burst into tears.

Furious with herself, she scratched her face trying to stop the sobbing, angry that she let her emotions best her for once.

After all, Ginny had a boyfriend! What the bloody hell was she doing crying over some other bloke?

And then Ginny Weasley remembered her weakness, the boy who had saved her from the Chamber, the one who was always nice to her and had more than once saved her from detention due to duelling in the halls with Malfoy, and she cried some more.

Ginny never used to cry about boys, she was used to them crying about her.

Having a weakness was ruddy annoying. She chuckled to herself with a watery smile.

"If you keep this up," Ginny mumbled to herself through her tears. "You'll turn into bloody Lavender."

**Ginevra**

The final battle was flung upon them at, of all places, the school she had grown to love and adore. She was stepping over bodies, most of them younger than her, pushing down her feelings of horror and dread and focusing on what she needed to do.

She couldn't think about Harry. She simply couldn't. He was most certainly safe, was he not?

No, she couldn't think of Harry.

When it was over, the smoke cleared and the Malfoys were sitting all alone at the Slytherin table, wide-eyed and clutching each other for support. Ginevra gave them a mere passing glance, looking for her own family.

_Where were the Weasleys?_

With a rising feeling of terror in the pit of her stomach, Ginny felt that something had happened.

When she saw the family, all clustered and crying in the centre of the Great Hall, she knew it was true.

As she saw the face of her beloved brother Fred, Ginevra felt the skies open up above her and drown her in misery. A wail left her body, so shattered and torn, that Mrs. Weasley's eyes rolled up in her head and she slumped to the floor, mouth open in cries of heart-shattering ache.

Ginny hadn't known. But now Ginevra was sure of it. As she looked around in a daze, animalistic sounds of horror coming out of her mouth, she felt Ron clutch her shoulder, followed by George who stroked her hair, and felt the Bill's tears fall upon her cheeks as he kissed her over and over again on the forehead. Percy was simply sitting on the floor, cradling Fred's head in his lap, weeping openly over his dead brother's body. Mr. Weasley was slumped next to Mrs. Weasley, the agony written across his face. When Harry came bursting in, following the crowd of redheads, he let out of moan of anguish as well. He dropped to his knees at Ginny's side, and they said nothing, not a word, only one single glance that spread their heartache across their faces like paint. Their hands clutched desperately at each other and Ginevra knew that without Harry Potter there she would not have made it through that next day.

Ginevra had many weaknesses; they were all here with her. She had the pain to prove it.

**Ginevra Weasley**

She wasn't quite sure why Harry wanted to bring her here. Diagon Alley wasn't busy this weekend, and the rain had muddied the cobbled stones enough that she worried about slipping as she picked her way across the road. Harry was holding one of her hands for support, but knowing her innate clumsiness he grinned and proceeded to pick her up and throw her over his shoulder. Ginny shouted and banged on his back with her fists but he paid no mind, dumping her unceremoniously in the entrance of Flourish and Blotts.

"Why are we here?" Ginny demanded, readjusting her dress. He had seen her admiring the dress in a catalogue at her mother's house, and ordered it for her as a surprise. It had just arrived this morning, and she was very cautious with the beautiful lilac-grey material that reminded her so much of wildflowers in the Forbidden Forest and stolen kisses with one Harry Potter.

Harry simply grinned, raising his eyebrows. He opened the door to the bookshop and motioned her inside. Rolling her eyes, Ginny gracefully stepped over the threshold while managing to elbow her boyfriend in the stomach. With a loud "oomph" he followed her, letting the bell tinkle above them. The storekeeper looked over and to Ginny's astonishment, gave Harry a knowing smile. He exited the shop through the back door, as if it was an everyday occurrence that he left his store in the hands of a twenty-three year old who obviously had something up his sleeve.

"Harry, if you needed to pick up a book, we could have done it when the shop was open,"

Ginny started, only to have the air rush out of her with a whoosh as he slowly descended onto one knee, staring into her eyes the whole time.

"Harry…"

"Ginevra," Harry said fondly, rolling her full name around. Right then she decided that she didn't really hate her name if that was how it could be said. "Do you know why I've brought you here?"

Ginny was unable to keep her quips to herself, even at this pivotal moment. "I believe, Mr. Potter, I have already made it clear that I do not know,"

Even though she did know. She knew now. She knew very well and her heart was racing.

"This was the first place I saw you, really saw you. Before you began your first year at Hogwarts—this was the place where you got Riddle's diary,"

Ginny's eyes clouded over and she gave a long hard look at the man on his knee before her.

"This was also the place where you, a barely eleven year old girl, stood up to Draco Malfoy and his father for me."

Ginny's lips quirked into a half-smile. "You're welcome, you know."

Harry chuckled, taking her soft hand in his calloused fingers. "I brought you here because this is where I saw you, this is where our journey together started, and even though it has been quite a terrifying trip I for one could not have made it without you. That's a fact,"

Ginny's eyes pricked with tears, against her will. She had never wanted to be one of those sobbing engaged women with that sappy story to tell—at least, not until now.

"So what I'm saying, Ginevra, is that our past is our past and I want us to be the future as well. Ginny Weasley, will you marry me?"

Tears streamed down her face unbidden as she murmured out a broken "yes". As Harry slipped the ring on her finger, she noticed that it was, to her shock, a purple diamond. It perfectly matched her dress, and complemented her hair immensely.

"Only you, Harry Potter," Ginny choked out as he stood up, not even knowing what she was saying. "Only you."

With that, they sealed their engagement with a searing kiss and Ginny felt magic flow through her, tingling the tips of her fingers. Her knees buckled and Harry caught her, swooping down and planting joyous kisses on cheeks as he cradled her in her gorgeous dress and matching ring. Neither of them had noticed the swelling crowd gathered outside the window of the tiny bookshop, most of whom were sobbing openly in joy at seeing their favourite couple finally betrothed.

If this was what it was like to have a weakness, Ginevra Weasley never wanted it to go away.

-----------------------------

**Mrs. Ginny Potter**

She didn't take to impatience well, and when Harry told her he would be late to supper she simply decided to take it to him. Ginny knew he had been suffering stress at work; the Death Eaters were having a surge in their numbers this year due to blows to the Wizarding economy. The Prophet that morning had reported four recruiters caught by none other than Aurors Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, and Ginny was sure his tardiness was explained by the interrogation going on at the moment.

Dropping off the drowsy James with her mother, Ginny Flooed straight to the Ministry and was surprised to find it bustling as usual although it was six o'clock in the evening. Feeling slightly foolish with the picnic hamper tucked under her right arm, Ginny shrunk it to the size of a bag and carried it with ease. The checkpoint wizard waved her through with the usual scan—even Mrs. Potter was not allowed to go through unsupervised.

Ascending in the lift to Harry's office, she realized that he was most likely down in the dungeons at Auror Headquarters and quickly switched lifts. While she had never been down there herself, Hermione often visited Ron there on her Ministry business to check on the conditions of the house-elves who were in charge of keeping the area clean.

Stepping off the lift, Ginny was assaulted by a sudden, pungent smell she knew all too well.

She was unnerved by the dead silence in the corridor, and unconsciously unsheathed her wand, holding it before her with a muttered_ Lumos_.

Rounding a corner, she gasped at what she saw.

Harry Potter, her husband, was currently bending over the body of an obviously dead man. Another couple of Aurors she didn't know stood next to him, hands in their pockets like they didn't notice the blood streaming down the floor and coating it with slick, slippery liquid.

Her voice caught in her throat and the Aurors heard her sharp intake of breath, immediately pointing their wands in her direction. She let out an involuntary squeak and Harry, recognizing her shining red hair, shouted in distress.

"Oy, that's my wife! Lower your wands!"

Ginny looked like she was going to be sick. Harry moved toward her with gentleness, his hands stretched in front of him. With a shock, she noticed that they didn't have blood on them. _So why was I expecting that?_

"Gin, pet, who let you down here? There's supposed to be an Auror at the elevators,"

Ginny couldn't respond through the thick lump in her throat, as she stared past her husband at the dead Death Eater, from the looks of his robes.

"You killed him?"

"Ginny, he tried to kill us and get away, you have to—"

She turned and ran, slipping on the blood-slicked tiles, foregoing the lift in favour of the stairs and ran and ran until she was breathless and until she was out of the Ministry.

She had known about his job, the realities of it—but she hadn't expected to see it.

When she got home, she dashed directly to her bed and huddled, shaking, under the covers, blanketing her face as if that would block out the images running through her mind.

_Dumbledore. Creevey. Tonks. Lupin. Fred. Death Eaters…_

You see, Mrs. Potter had figured out her other weakness.

They were her memories.

-------------

Harry arrived, shaken, as soon as he could leave. He had scourgified his clothing so there was not a trace of blood and ran up the stairs, following the path his wife had taken.

When he saw the quivering lump under the covers, it was his turn to feel sick.

"Ginny…" He started gently, jumping back as she emerged from under the covers with wild eyes.

"You startled me!" She said thickly, attempting to hide her tears. Harry rushed to her side, the picture of distress.

"Gin, I'm so sorry, you weren't supposed to see that, I'm sorry—"

To his surprise, Ginny chuckled. More of a sad giggle, really, but still. "Harry, I'm—I'm not mad at you for doing what you had to do, I know it's your job. I mean—I'm bothered by it, because I know it keeps you up at night, but…it's not that,"

Harry was silenced for a moment by her words, biting his lip.

"Then what is it, pumpkin?" Harry said softly, cringing as he realized that Ginny did not care for that nickname. She ignored it however, or perhaps didn't even hear him as she stared off into the distance.

"I hate remembering,"

And just like that he knew what she was talking about, and he gathered her to his chest and let her spill her woes out to him as she rarely ever did.

Ginny was learning, however.

She was learning that she didn't have to hide her feelings from her husband, because he was a bloody good guesser anyway.

She was learning that weaknesses are a part of life, and having a weakness or two doesn't make one a weak person.

She had once thought weaknesses a liability. Now, dare she think—perhaps weaknesses could be a strength, also?

**Mum**

With three children and a new job came the intense overworked feeling of any mother, and Ginny wasn't getting any younger. Every time she heard a crash followed by "Muuummmm!" she sighed, shook her head, and followed the sobbing sounds.

As they grew older and left for Hogwarts, Ginny couldn't help but worry that they would encounter the same experiences that she and Harry had to face in their years of school. Imagine her surprise when James would bounce home to tell her, in his first year of Hogwarts, that he had a girlfriend with long blonde hair and "the most beautiful eyes ever, Mum!". Harry had grinned, hiding it behind his newspaper, and Ginny had sighed and rolled her eyes as she realized the Potter charm reached far and long.

She was even more shocked that Teddy Lupin had found a good friend in Victoire, and although they were in different houses at school they made it a point to study together often. Ginny had accidentally walked in on Harry and Teddy having a deep discussion on all things male and was thrown out of the room with a "Gin, please!" and a "Auntie!".

Albus was having a mighty good time in Gryffindor, as being the youngest son of Harry Potter had its perks. He had mastered the art of becoming class clown, something inherited from the redhead side of the family, and drew great pleasure from his classmates' laughter.

It seemed that things were going well for her children, until the day Ginny Potter almost lost her mind once and for all.

She had received an urgent Floo from the new Headmistress, who summoned her to the castle immediately. With sense of foreboding, she owled Harry immediately and Apparated right outside the grounds, shocked to see staff members waiting to greet her. Neville, the Herbology professor, rushed towards her and grabbed her arm, imploring with his eyes to understand.

"Ginny, there's been an accident…"

The sounds blurred together as Ginny practically flew up to the hospital wing where her battered daughter lay, bruised and broken from her nearly three hundred foot Quiddich fall. Lily had insisted upon trying out for Seeker, as her father's legacy, and upon gaining it was in the process of making herself quite the reputation.

That was, however, until one Scorpius Malfoy dodged a Bludger meant for him, which instead knocked Lily off her broom.

Ginny was in shock, barely registering the tears coming down her face when she noticed she was not alone with the professors and the Mediwitch. A boy, so familiar she could have sworn she knew him decades ago, was perched at the edge of her daughter's bed, anxiously looking from Lily to Ginny and back again.

With a start, she recognized Draco Malfoy's grey eyes in the form of his son, Scorpius.

_What was he doing here?_

Her question would remain unanswered for the moment, as the Mediwitch whose name Ginny couldn't recall announced that Lily was coming around.

Right as Harry dashed through the double doors of the infirmary, swearing oaths as he tripped over his own feet, Lily looked dazedly up at her mother and said, in such sweet tones,

"Mum, is Scorpius all right?"

And with that, Ginny burst into tears once more, smothering her daughter with kisses. Soon she was joined by Harry who perched awkwardly at their side, patting their heads.

"She'll have to spend about a week in here, Mr and Mrs Potter," the Mediwitch announced, unconsciously batting her eyelashes at Harry. "But she'll be all right."

When Ginny had taken a few sips of Calming Drought, she looked at the scene around her. Yes, this was her Hogwarts, with different professors and surroundings, but Hogwarts the same. However, some things were vastly different.

Slytherin pureblood Scorpius Malfoy, blonde hair falling over his eyes, had pulled up a chair next to Lily's bed and with a slightly fearful look at the Potters, gently taken her hand in his. Harry's slight tightening on Ginny's waist was the only indication of what he was seeing.

"Sorry, Lil," Scorpius murmured so low that Ginny could barely hear him. "Merlin, I'm so sorry,"

And with a shock, she realized that this was Draco Malfoy's son holding her daughter's hand, and she was surprisingly all right with it.

Because everything was going to be okay.

Yes, she had weaknesses, the mother of three and wife of Harry Potter realized. Her children, her family, her love.

No, they did not make her less of a person. In fact, it was the weaknesses that showed the true care and affection.

Without weakness, you cannot find strength.

As the rest of the Potter children tumbled into the infirmary, screeching questions at the throng around Lily's bed, Ginny tucked her hand into her husband's and leaned against his still-muscled chest. She watched Scorpius as he defiantly kept his hand with Lily's, and the way she looked at him under her lashes. Ginny saw how her sons pounced on their sister, both scolding her for not being more careful and suffocating her in hugs the next moment.

Yes, Ginny Potter had found her strength.

**The End.**

**So what do you think? A bit different, hmm? I dunno, I kind of like it. Maybe it's not perfect but it's cool haha. Tell me what your opinion is.**


	14. The Quill

**Title: The Quill**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: Ginny has an effect on Harry while studying in the library. Unfortunately, Malfoy seems to have noticed her too. What's a boy to do? A silly lusty oneshot.**

**A/N: I know this chapter sucks, I really do. But I'll publish it anyway. **

**Also check out my latest story, Fifteen Months, a Draco/Ginny that is not as weird as most D/G's I see floating around. **

**Go ahead, love it and review it, I dare you.**

**xoxo**

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Ginny Weasley was studying with such ferocious attention that her peers feared to interrupt her. Ginny's legend preceded her, and her temper was hot by nature—studying nonstop only served to overheat it, producing a volatile mixture that was liable to blow up at any time.

Even Harry dared not disturb the redhead, since the last time he startled her while she was in her element he got a face full of water from an inadvertent _Aguamenti_ spurting from her wand.As he sputtered, his hair drenched and glasses doused, Ginny muttered something that was most certainly not an apology and turned back to her Potions book, casting another silencing charm around her.

Thereafter, Harry left her alone too.

Hermione was the only one who understood the youngest Weasley, smacking Harry upside the head when he suggested that she had finally gone mental.

"Honestly!" Hermione exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Is it any surprise that she's worried about her exams?"

"Well," Ron mumbled through a mouthful of cream pie. "She's always been fine with school before, what's changed now?"

"She's a year older, that's what. You two could take a lesson from her!" Hermione huffed, marching out of the Great Hall. "I'm taking her some food."

So, three days later, Harry was desperate to see Ginny. He missed the vivacious redhead bouncing around the common room, her infamous curls flowing behind her as she engaged in whatever mischief catered to her fancy.

Taking a risk, he bartered with Hermione to take food to her that night.

Hermione, displeased with this notion, tried to dissuade him. "Harry, you're just going to distract her…"

"'Mione, I promise, I'm going in for two minutes, putting the food down, and then coming out and studying. Promise!"

Eventually relenting, with many muttered threats, Hermione passed on the biscuits and muffins she had pilfered from dinner.

Food wrapped in a paper napkin, Harry tried not to squish it in his large hand. As he entered the nearly silent library, he caught a glimpse of Ginny glowering with infinite rage at the snickering Lavender and Parvati at the table across from her, trying to burn them to death with a laser stare.

He sighed. His feelings for the girl were the only reason he dared to cross that look.

"Gin, I brought you some food," he said softly, feeling relief at the kind smile she gave him, cutting short her concentration on spontaneously blowing up the gossiping girls in front of her.

"Thanks, Harry," her words were muffled around the entire biscuit she had shoved in her mouth, reminiscent of her brother. "Sorry about this, I just really need to study, you know? I swear on Merlin we'll spend more time together when it's all over,"

Harry beamed, nodding in rhythm, much to Ginny's amusement. "I completely understand, Ginny. I'm just going to go study over there, so let me know if you need anything else."

And with that, a jovial Harry Potter made his way to a study desk across the library, just to make sure that he didn't disturb the redhead with shuffling of papers and scratching of quills.

Harry had just settled his things, his ink set at the perfect angle to dip into and the parchment positioned correctly under the light, when a shadow loomed over him.

Turning around in annoyance, he was greeted with the sight of platinum blonde hair and rolling eyes.

"Honestly, Potter, you really are pathetic. Spying on your girlfriend from this distance?"

Harry seethed internally, but knowing this battle was not to be waged in the library during exam week, he turned back around, effectively cutting off communication.

Snorting indelicately, Malfoy made his way to the only empty table, two over from Harry and facing Ginny all the way across he room. Ginny looked up at the sound of Malfoy's chair being scraped out, and shot him a pointed look that he seemed to shrivel in response to.

Grinning, Harry resumed his latest Transfigurations essay, attempting to find the place where he had last taken a break.

The next time he looked up, it was to a rather intriguing sight.

Ginny Weasley was obviously concentrating very hard. Often when one is focusing diligently on a task, one loses focus of what else one is doing.

In this case, Ginny Weasley was playing with her quill.

Everyone else in the library was silent, heads bent down to their books and scribbling furiously on parchment. No one saw what he was seeing, and Harry had to blink twice to make sure he wasn't simply utilizing imagination.

However, Harry couldn't help but imagine the delicate whispering noise that the quill would be making as it moved up and down Ginny's cheek. Slowly, she moved it towards her ear, where she began moving it around and around the outer crest.

Harry Potter was utterly and completely transfixed. Essay set aside, he gaped with his mouth open at Ginny's unconscious show.

Slowly, the quill moved from her ear down to her freckled neck, where milk-white skin lay soft and unmarred for his imagination to run wild with. Drifting further down, eyebrows narrowed in concentration at her Potions text, she moved the quill in circles around the middle of her chest, before dipping it lower and lower until Harry found it ungentlemanly to watch.

That did not, however, keep him from peeking at her now and again.

Ginny had now moved the quill down to her leg, which rested diagonal from her underneath the table on the chair across from her. The quill traced lazy loop-de-loops around and around her upper thigh, and Harry's eyes were wide as saucers as he strained to see the feather tickling her pale skin.

With an inaudible groan, he sank back in his seat as Ginny's eyes lit up and her quill dipped in ink, rising above the table. She began writing, and Harry closed his eyes in consternation.

Almost as if his wish was granted, Ginny stopped abruptly, eyes stormy with frustration once again. Harry sat up, slowly as not to attract attention, and directed his gaze once more to the lascivious Ginevra who was currently sucking away at the end of her quill.

And it was not gentle, by any means.

Ginny was sucking on the point so hard that when it came out of her mouth it was flattened into a thin line, which considerably excited Harry.

He was, after all, a teenage boy.

Belatedly, he noticed something else as Ginny slipped the quill back into her mouth, this time working it in circles around and around.

Someone else was watching Ginny as well.

That someone else was none other than Draco Malfoy, whose eyes were so wide that Harry was positive he could hang Christmas ornaments off of his lower eyelids at the moment.

"Bloody hell…" murmured the youngest Malfoy, in a tone so quiet that Harry had to cock his head to hear. Draco's forehead was shining with perspiration—was that sweat? Did Malfoys even sweat?—and he wiped it off impatiently with a sleeve, craning his neck forward to watch the youngest Weasley.

Now, this wouldn't do at all.

In fact, Harry found himself becoming increasingly angry. With Malfoy, yes, of course. But also with Ginny!

Who could resist such charms, after all? Malfoy was a bloke like any other guy in the school, and here she was, throwing herself—

And then his thoughts went blank, and he gripped the edge of the table as Ginny bit the tip of the quill gently, so gently in fact that Harry nearly wet his pants in glee.

Malfoy was having similar thoughts, it seemed, because he let out a loud moan that caused the first year at the table between Malfoy and Harry to squeak in distress.

With rage blackening his vision, Harry directed a death stare at Malfoy, willing the other boy to look in his direction so he could rip his eyeballs out of the sockets.

But Malfoy was too enchanted by what he was watching—he never saw Harry scoot his chair back threateningly and stalk over to his table until Potter was inches away from his face.

"Stop. Looking. At her."

And all Malfoy could do was gape at Harry, who had morphed into an utterly terrible man at that point, eyes wild with lust and anger.

"I—I can't," Malfoy said helplessly, clearing his throat and attempting to regain some semblance of dignity. "Besides," he said, voice growing stronger as he directed his gaze away from the luscious redhead. "Perhaps you should control where your woman does those kinds of things, eh?"

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It was with great distress that Ginny was forced to tear herself away from her essay yet again by a noise disturbance. She kept losing her train of thought, feeling as if someone was staring at her, but by the time she actually looked up all she saw was two black-robe-clad figures pummelling each other and yelping curses the entire time.

When Madam Pince finally arrived panting on the scene, her glasses dropped down to the tip of her nose, the two culprits had already been pried off of each other by none other than Ginny Weasley herself who was forced to intervene due to the reluctant nature of the rest of the students to break the day's entertainment apart.

"What the bloody hell are you two doing?" She was screaming at them, at the top of her lungs, without a silencing charm. In the library. Ginny Weasley was certainly no Hermione Granger.

Malfoy and Harry were held apart by a tiny hand of hers bunched around each other collars, still trying to make the occasional lunge for the other. "SOME OF US HAVE WORK TO DO, YOU KNOW!"

"I know!" Malfoy had burst out unexpectedly, eyeing her with—what the hell was that look? Ginny quickly released him from her grasp, wiping her hand on her skirt. She stepped in front of Harry to stop him from rushing Malfoy again. "Next time I won't make the mistake of sitting anywhere near the infamous Potty and the Weaselette!" And he levelled a glare of hatred at his nemesis, Harry Potter, who was surprisingly aiming a glare of his own in her direction.  
"Potter, do tell me why you're looking as though you wish to cut off my head!" Ginny exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

Harry swallowed and looked around at the spectators before whispering into Ginny's ear.

"_The next time you want to have that effect on me, don't do it in public_!"

"Excuse me?"

"Ginny Weasley, your bloody quill was driving me mad!"

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**Please review. And don't hate me for the crappy chapter. I'll cry if you're too mean—but you can be mean if you really want to. You have the freedom…IF you review!**


	15. Heroes and Heroines

**Title: Heroes and Heroines**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: "Harry and Ginny realized, however, something that many people go without knowing. Everyone saves someone. Everyone is somebody's hero."**

**A/N: I've been feeling inspired lately. I don't know if it's good or bad so review and tell me. Also, I just wrote the first chapter of a Ron/Hermione oneshot series just like this. Are you excited? I am. It'll be up soon, keep an eye out!**

**Enjoy!**

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**Ginny: Year 1**

Ginny was alone in the dripping wasteland, a basilisk to keep her company and a taunting captor to make her feel her pain.

She was alone, until he came along.

And she could do nothing, she was unconscious but she could see somehow, she could see him drive back the dark.

And all of a sudden she could see it would be all right.

She felt his strong arms, the arms of a boy too soon becoming a man, encircle her fragile body and whisper her name into her ear.

_Wake up, Ginny, please wake up. Stay with me, Ginny._

"I thought I was going to die alone."

Her gentle whisper, the voice of a child, pierced the silence and the slow drip of blood from the basilisk's head.

The voice of a child who was too soon becoming a woman—the words of a world-weary girl, old, tired words coming out of a young, once-vibrant mouth.

As Harry looked into her half-open eyes, the terrified eyes of chocolate brown, he unconsciously took on his role as her protector.

"I would never let that happen," he said firmly, grasping his arms tighter around her small body. "I would _never_ let that happen to you."

And so the hero worship that had nurtured for a year deep in her bosom flowed through her veins, because Ginny was herself once again, there was no more evil in her.

There was only the drained feeling in her little heart, and the odd candlelight-warm sensation that she felt from the boy carrying her limp body through the Chamber of Secrets.

He had been a hero before, she knew. He was the Boy Who Lived, and his scar was evidence of his struggles and triumphs before.

But he had never been _her_ hero—he was _theirs_.

They could never understand, she supposed. They thought she was obsessed with him, a silly schoolgirl crush on a boy loved by the Wizarding world.

No, she wasn't smitten with Harry like they all whispered behind her back.

Ginny Weasley had just found her hero.

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**Harry: Year 4**

She found him after the events of the night, after the Diggory's had left with Dumbledore and the Prophet reporters had been kicked out once and for all.

The door to the infirmary creaked slightly, and she cursed under her breath as she muttered a silencing spell. Madam Pomfrey was crying in McGonagall's office, and the rest of the school was hovering in stunned silence in the Great Hall.

But she found his silhouette by the bed, staring out at the shadows criss-crossing the window.

Harry was broken, and she knew it before he said a word. His bones were whole, it was true—but his spirit was shattered.

She didn't know what to say, so she chose to say nothing instead. Ginny perched on the edge of the bed, watching him with tender eyes as he sat beside her, blue striped pyjamas seeming strangely out of place with the terrible turn of the night.

She didn't know what to say, but it was all right, because he found her hand and held onto it like there was nothing else to keep him anchored to this earth.

"I saw him die, Ginny," he whispered so low that she had to close her eyes to hear his voice. She kept her them shut and moved over, her head gently lolling on his shoulder.

"I know, Harry. I know." Outside, the insects that usually made such a ruckus in the Forbidden Forest were silent as if they were also in mourning, in fear of what was to come.

The dam broke somewhere in the minutes after her words, and Harry's sobs echoed around the empty hospital wing. Ginny's own tears threatened to spill over as Harry gave way to his pain, hunching over in absolute agony.

But she had to be the hero today. He had saved her enough.

So Ginny pushed her tears back and pulled on Harry, bringing him upright with his head in his hands.

And Ginny simply embraced him. Because she remembered that night she dared not think of often, when a boy who was barely twelve held her and banished the demons threatening her soul.

Her little arms reached as far as they could around his broad shoulders, holding him to her in a gesture of complete understanding.

Ginny's heartfelt sorrows were conveyed through her touch, and in the sweet scent of her skin Harry felt her love. It reached around him, shrouding him in protection, reminding him of a woman long ago who would do anything for him, even give up her life to save his own.

That woman, on the fringes of his memory, was his hero—more aptly, his heroine.

So was Ginny Weasley.

That night, as Ginny kicked off her shoes and settled in the hospital bed with the desolate young man, he held onto her, hands fisting in her black robes.

Perhaps she had been _their_ heroine before, lighting up a room with her very presence, sparking a passionate fire in those around her and driving them to fight for her.

But now she was _his _heroine.

Harry had found her, finally. And she was saving him, every moment of that long, dark night. She was saving him.

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**Harry: Year 5**

He was floating, on a bed of sorrow possibly—or just in midair, purposeless, pointless, and heartless.

He didn't know what he was doing when he broke every mirror in number twelve Grimmauld Place. He couldn't feel the pain when he broke down the wall of the family room with his bare hands.

He did, however, feel the strong, crisp presence of Ginny Weasley as she entered the room, eyes swimming with tears unshed.

"Stop it!" Her scream pierced the rush of sound in his head, causing him to pause in confusion. His head whipped around and he regarded Ginny with a look of detached interest. Who was this girl, why was she interrupting him?

_What am I doing?_

Then in a surge, he remembered. _Dead, because of me. Sirius, dead, because of me. Another one dead, because of me. Dead, because of me. Dead, because of me…_

He sank to the floor under the weight of the world on his shoulders. In an instant she was by his side, her eyes red-rimmed and hands shaking.

That didn't stop her from stroking his back, moving smoothly up and down while murmuring broken words while tears streamed down her own cheeks.

Spinning around suddenly, he caught the hands of the girl at his side. Harry's words choked on the sorrow that built up in his throat, speechless in the aftermath of something they were all too young to experience. But when she held his gaze, her bright, watery eyes filled with love, he knew that she understood. For, she felt it too.

Looking down, he unconsciously examined the contrast between her light, freckled fingers and his calloused digits. He saw his hands squeeze hers, felt one of her hands come free and run through his hair and without a further thought he pulled her into his arms and cradled her like a child.

And so they lay, feeling the pain and burden of many responsibilities entwined with each other, tears mingling with tears and heads close together, bowed as if in prayer.

Harry needed his heroine. And she needed her hero.

And so, they lay.

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**Years After**

"You saved me, you know."

Harry lay next to his wife, his hands wandering up and down her beautiful body. No, she was no longer nineteen and fresh-faced, but forever she was the most striking witch in the world to him.

"I couldn't have survived without you, either." Ginny's hands wove through his grey-streaked hair, thick glasses slipping down his nose as he smiled gently at her. He would always be the Boy Who Lived to them, but forever he was her hero.

"You had our children, Ginny. No one could have given me a greater gift." And he touched her stomach, no longer firm and strong but still wonderful to him, like her beautiful rounded hips and swelling bosom.

"And you married me, Harry Potter!" Ginny's eyes danced in mirth as he grabbed his hands, giggling as he tried to tickle her. Her laughter subsiding, she listened to the heartbeat of the man next to her, the man who had been by her side for decades.

"The children will be here tomorrow, Gin, we should go to sleep," he suggested softly, covering a yawn with his hand.

"I love you, Harry Potter," she whispered, allowing her romantic side to present itself. The spitfire of the family, as she had been labelled, was no longer afraid to express her more delicate feelings. She supposed it was wisdom gifted with age.

"And I love you, Ginny Potter," he murmured back, already on the edge of drowsiness.

The hero and the heroine: a common tale.

Harry and Ginny realized, however, something that many people go without knowing.

Everyone saves someone.

Everyone is somebody's hero.

And as Ginny drifted off to sleep, her now-light red hair falling over the pillows, a smile graced her gently lined face as she dreamt of the green-eyed boy she first saw at her mother's kitchen table.

The end.

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**Aww. So sweet. Review and tell me how disgustingly sappy this was haha.**

**But please don't hurt my feelings, I'm very sensitive. =]**


	16. Simpler Times

**Title: Simpler Times**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: Her eyes were soft and full as they looked up at him with respect, and he felt a wrenching in his gut as he realized what he had to do. **

"**I have to leave soon, Ginny. I can't tell you when or why, but I have to go."**

**A/N: I've been trying to upload for days now, something glitched, sorry! I just felt like writing this randomly one night. This takes place sometime after Harry's fifth year, maybe sixth year, when he gets a sense of foreboding about his future. Use your imagination, timelines aren't that important to me haha.**

**Also check out my new DHr oneshot called Poison Kisses and Sickly Goodness, it's extremely real and very good if I might say so myself.**

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"You're brilliant," Harry whispered to his girlfriend. "Bloody brilliant, you know that?"

"Are you speaking of my Quiddich talents, Potter? Or my wicked body?"

Ginny's quips were cut off by her scream as Harry threw his Firebolt into a dive, shocking the small redhead behind him on the broom who was now digging her fingernails into his skin.

"YOU ARSE! YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE!"

But she was laughing as she said it, and he couldn't help but chuckle when she kicked him none too gently in the back of the leg.

Their nightly broomstick rides had been postponed recently, due to exams and schedules of both parties.

But neither of them could stand a longer absence than a week for soaring and flying under the moonlight streaming through the Forbidden Forest. In the night, all disguises melted away and everything was stripped down to be whole and pure, raw and real.

The night had healing powers, Ginny had always believed. When she shared this with Harry, he agreed.

Of course, Harry also loved the way Ginny's pale, freckled features looked almost transparent in the dim lighting. It was as if all of her beauty was exposed down to the most unforgivable flaw—and it made her more gorgeous to be displayed in such a ruthless way; more dangerously incredible than in the simple sunlight.

Harry's true intentions for his late night rides with Ginny were to see that glow that she seemed to wear even better in the dark than she did in the light.

Naturally, the sun was kind to the brilliant redhead as well, because when the scorching rays would hit her just right she would light up like a beam from the heavens.

But, Harry had come to realize: there was something about the night.

"Harry," Ginny nudged him away from his thoughts, her hot, peppermint-scented breath tickling his neck. Involuntarily, he shivered. "You're in another world,"

"Sorry, just thinking,"

"About me, of course?" Ginny shot playfully, her arms wrapping tight around his middle.

_Of course_, Harry grinned internally as he took the broom into another stomach-crunching nosedive to their final destination, laughing heartily at Ginny's squeals.

"That wasn't fair!" Ginny's eyes sparkled in humour as she stumbled off the broom, legs wobbling from the daze-inducing flight.

Harry looked up just to see her catch herself on a tree. "Always graceful, Gin."

"Sod off," she said amicably. The copper-headed adolescent ambled away to settle herself beneath the wide oak as Harry pretended to be wounded by her words, clutching his heart. Winking, she patted the ground beside her, smoothing down her old flannel pyjamas. Ginny Weasley cared very little for Fleur's fashion advice; her night attire was comfort first, even if she was meeting a handsome boyfriend in their very own lover's lane.

Harry, clad in jeans and an old t-shirt, strolled over to her with his hands in his pockets. He stood there for a bit, cocking his head to the side and examining the contrast of the tree leaves shuddering in the breeze as they shadowed her pretty outline.

Ginny bore his scrutiny well, her delicate face turned upward to him. The moonlight bathed her features in radiance, illuminating her chestnut eyes and making them dance in joy and splendour.

"Staring at a young witch is deemed rather impolite," she said primly in a Mrs. Weasley tone of voice, cocky grin belying her mischievous nature. Harry snapped out of his trance, coughing awkwardly as he dropped by her side.

"Just can't help myself sometimes," he murmured to the ground, playing with the grass beneath his fingers. He felt a cool hand on his own, stilling his restless movements.

"Why did you bring me here, Harry?" Ginny asked him softly, threading her fingers through his own. She was sensitive to his moods, able to notice what even he couldn't see about himself at times. "Usually we just loop around the castle a few times before snogging ourselves senseless on the Astronomy Tower..."

"Oh, you romantic," Harry joked, squeezing her hand. He lay back, pulling his girlfriend back and she lay on him, her free hand wandering and tracing around his heart. "Don't you remember this place?"

Ginny drew her eyes away from Harry's powerful chest, partly sitting up to get a better look. They were at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, a place couples rarely visited.

Realization dawned on Ginny's face. "This is where the thestrals are, Luna brought me here once."

Harry grinned up at the star-illuminated sky above. "They've moved further in since, I reckon the ruckus from Hagrid's began to bother them. I thought this place was rather beautiful, really,"

"What a sap," Ginny smacked his arm good-naturedly. "I agree though, this is quite a lovely spot you've found."

"Let's make it our spot," Harry whispered into her ear, making her shudder. She turned, catching his lips in a passionate kiss and climbing half on top of him. He swept her hair over her shoulder and dragged a hand down her back, eliciting a gasp. Harry gently tugged on her, pulling her even closer to his body.

Harry sucked on Ginny's neck, trailing kisses down her cheek to the satiny smooth skin above her delicate collarbone. He relished the uncontrolled moans she made and groaned as she pulled away, fixing him with a look.

"Why did you bring me here?" Ginny repeated. She knew there was something wrong, she could feel it in his frantic caresses—it almost frightened her, and as if she could feel the separation looming soon, she kept her body close to his.

Her eyes were soft and full as they looked up at him with adoration many found hard to associate with the tough little Weasley, and he felt a wrenching in his gut as he realized what he had to do.

"I have to leave soon, Ginny. I can't tell you when or why, but I'll have to go."

"Then I'll go with you," she said stubbornly without further questions. She knew what to he was referring, and her hands unconsciously clutched and let go of his shirt in anxious rhythm. "I'll go, and we'll all go together, you and me, Hermione and Ron..."

Harry shook his head gently and grabbed her flighty wrists. "Gin, you can't...I can't let you come with us."

Her head was shaking in objection, and she tried to release her hands from his grasp. "Harry, I can fight! I can do this with you! Don't push me away when I'm right here, I'm _willing_..."

"YOU may be willing," Harry spat abruptly, turning sudden dark eyes on her. "But I am not! I refuse to let your blood be on my hands."

Ginny drew herself up to her full sitting height, looking down on Harry in confusion and the beginnings of rage. "I can take care of myself, you know that! I wouldn't be a burden on you,"

"Ginny, it's not that," Harry took in her caring and befuddled eyes, swimming with reflections of himself in the light of the moon. "Your mother needs you. This school needs you. Things are going to happen here, I can just feel it—and I trust you to take care of them. You won't be in as much danger,"

"So I'm expected to let _you_ go off alone, into the worst _danger_ any of us have ever faced, but you out of some sense of bloody _duty_ can't bring me—" Harry's lips crashed down on her furious words, effectively cutting her off. As he drew back, Ginny's eyes still closed, he stroked her cheek with a calloused finger.

"Don't you understand?" The desperation in his voice was evident, and Ginny opened her eyes to stare into his unyielding emerald gaze. "I _can't_ do this to you. I can't let you come, because _I. Can't. Lose. You._"

"Can't _you_ understand?" Her words came more gently this time as his whole hand caressed her face. "I can't lose you, either."

At an impasse, the young couple stared at each other, humbled by way of the obstacles in their path.

What else could they do, but enjoy the moments they had left? For who knew what tomorrow would bring.

However, for now, they lay together contemplating love and loss in simpler times bathed in translucent light under a tree at the edge of Hogwarts School.

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**The end.**

**I read the review that was posted that requested a oneshot for the night of their first kiss. What a wonderful idea, and I'll get on that straightaway. Please review and tell me what you think of this oneshot!**


	17. Dream Home

**Title: Dream Home**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: The day he asked her to marry him, he also promised her a , not just a house. A home. **

**A/N: Hope you guys are pleased to know that (drumroll, please...) I already have the second chapter of a Ron/Hermione oneshot series written, it'll be published when I have a good title. I'm super excited about it, I've always wanted to do this for that pair too...just came out with a Draco/Ginny (Corridor Encounters) that follows the vein of this story, only with more bickering because it simply won't do to have Draco and Ginny randomly fall in love with each other when they've hated each other for so long. What do you think? Let me know, loves!**

Newest stories out: Poison Kisses and Sickly Goodness (DHr), Corridor Encounters (D/G)—I would be heartily grateful if you would check these out too! 

**------**

The day he asked her to marry him, he also promised her a house.

No, not just a house. A home.

She believed him, not because of money he was certain to make, but because of sheer willpower.

He wanted to give her everything, and she let him.

Because she wanted to give him everything too.

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When they were still young and she wasn't yet a mother, they lived in a small flat near the Leaky Cauldron that she often found roaches in. Her shrieks were tempered by his laughter, and together they lived as a young married couple in their house. She would cook with the kettle and rarely took out a cauldron, and together they would wrap themselves in a blanket and order takeout which often drip-drip-dripped onto the old, spotted carpets.

He always knew it was a home, because of the hotheaded woman who lay beside him every night in their little, dingy bed.

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They always had a home, she supposed. Whatever places they lived, through rough Auror training and difficult Quiddich practices, they made it their own through their love and creativity. A home is where the heart is, after all, and their hearts were firmly in place with each other.

But the first time they bought a real house, a _house_, together, she couldn't help but feel pride and love swelling to burst in her bosom.

James was still in her belly, with three months to go, when they first entered the three-story Victorian that comfortably resembled the Burrow they had just received the keys to.

She had twirled around in the kitchen caressing her stomach, laughing to herself at the multitude of cabinets she could use to store her cauldrons and cookbooks. Her hair danced and shimmered in the sunlight falling between the dusty cracked blinds, and the lack of furnishings made it seem all the more surreal.

He watched as she pranced from room to room, taking off her shoes so as not to mar the brand new plush carpet. Her toes left little indentations, darker spots in the fabrics and he found himself entranced by the sight of her footprints leading from one room to the next, tracing the steps of his wife as she walked all around declaring their freedom in their home.

He watched her as she turned to him, smiling, and grabbed his hands, pulling him close to her and hugging him tight. He felt her belly against him and his eyes crinkled with mirth as he realized they would be adding a third member to their fledgling family come a few months.

Yes, this house would also be a home. This home would be filled with warmth and pattering infant feet, a redheaded mother racing after her boisterous child and a father filled to the brim with love and life.

After all, home is where the heart is. His heart was firmly with her, and home was wherever she would go.

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**Short and sweet. Review and tell me how you feel about this! Also check out Fifteen Months, I've been updating it frequently. Love you guys.**


	18. Push and Pull

**Chapter 18: Push and Pull**

**Summary: But she was always there, stroking his back and telling him that she wouldn't leave, he could jinx her or spit on her but she knew his heart and he knew hers, too.**

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In the beginning, he always pushed her away.

He wouldn't let her in, when they left for the Horcruxes. He refused to let her be a part of his nightmarish hell, young as she was. She deserved better, and he knew it. He should have fathomed, though, that once she had her mind set on something she was not apt to let it go. So he came back and so did she, and she held onto him like he was her strength and he couldn't find it easy to push her away again.

Afterwards, she was always there, _always there,_ to ease his troubled thoughts and dreams filled with chaos, but he didn't want her because he was foolish.

He wanted to do it on his own. _Independent_, he wanted to banish the wickedness from his mind by himself.

She, however, was relentless and stubborn and simply would not go away, no matter how much he yelled at her, even cursed at her; in shame he would admit later on.

But she was always there, stroking his back and telling him that she wouldn't leave, he could jinx her or spit on her but she knew his heart and he knew hers, too.

Oh, how he knew her through and through.

He knew that he cracked her big heart, leaving gaping ravines, every time he screamed at her, his hoarse voice telling her to get out and go home, leave him be and let him cope with his demons on his own. She wouldn't let it show, she was fiercely loyal to him and afterwards she would never admit to the hurt—but he knew, deep down, and he knew she knew. So he was ashamed, and he didn't push her away those times because of the shame, because of her hurt. He was never physical with her, _never_, but he couldn't control his words sometimes.

Especially right after the war.

She was so understanding that it bit him to the core when he spoke to her like that, and she knew that too! The witch would not turn away, she wouldn't drop her gaze and she stood her ground with those little hands balled into fists resting on her curved hips.

And she would just watch him, look at him, as he would curse at her.

When he was through, when he was exhausted and he would drop to the floor too agitated for the tears building behind his eyes, she would approach.

Lying on the floor next to him, she would tell him that she knew. She had seen, as well.

Yes, she had seen.

It was easy for him to forget that she was younger than he was, as he hunched into a ball on the floor making sounds of grief indecipherable to the human ear, and she murmured soothing words as she touched his arm and his face and his heart and made him feel things he had never felt before.

He tried to push her away. But she just wouldn't leave. Her feet were firmly welded to the floor of wherever he would be—she was there.

He tried to tell her, even held her to him once post coitus as they lay in bed sweaty and sticky and told her it was for her own good that she not know what was on his mind. It wasn't healthy for her, he said, and she should let him push her away sometimes. That was the time when she had gotten so livid that the light bulbs in the house inadvertently exploded due to her wandless magic.

She had told him, in words very matter of fact, that she always wanted to know what was on his mind and he was a bloody fool if he thought he could hide it from her.

She kept him sane through his darkest days, and in his happiest hours he thanked the stars above for the fiery-tempered and strong willed woman that helped bring him through to see the light for the first time after the terrible destruction of war.

His dreams haunted him at night, and she kept vigil by his side, waking up as soon as he did to calm his restless terrors.

He would remember, suddenly, and drop an object. She would come running and take his hand, placing it on her face and making him remember the present, not the past.

And when she, the tough, wise woman of his heart, would awaken screaming of Tom Riddle or Fred, _oh Fred_, he would wrap his arms tightly around her and be the security that she had always provided him with.

Yes, in the beginning he always pushed her away.

But Ginny Weasley had a way of getting into his heart. So, in the end, he pulled her to him and held her close.

Trying to push all the time was tiresome, after all.

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**Short and sweet. I hope it worked for you guys, I'd love some reviews! Also check out my new stories, Stumbling Along and Moving On as well as a new chapter of Fifteen Months—I promise you'll love them! Please please pretty please review!**


	19. Seasons

**Chapter 19—Seasons **

**So this chapter and the next one are probably my favourites so far because I was seriously inspired while writing them...credit goes to nature and inspirational quotes.**

_Winter_

The winter was difficult and Ginny found herself lost in it. On the outs with her one love, feuding with her reliable family, she struck out very much alone.

She couldn't breathe without him there anymore.

Ginny refused to be dependent on anyone for her happiness, and she could be happy, most certainly. Visits from Luna and Hermione were always joyous occasions, full of girlish giggles, past relics, and a few memories of Hogwarts that lay untarnished and whole without the corrosive force of war behind them.

But the happiness had been so much greater before, before the requisite single-girl outings and constant reassurances that she was fine.

She still couldn't breathe without him. And she missed those breaths where it felt important to be breathing near him because he wanted to be near her too.

So the winter was hard, because breathing in the snow became a difficult task. As the flakes melted into raindrops, the flowers began blooming again and she found herself wandering to a different someone, someone who could never have her heart because it was already gone.

She had given it away when she was naught but a child.

_Spring_

The spring was heavy with unspoken regrets because Harry couldn't say what he wanted to say, whenever he saw her, it was as if a great desert had taken root in his throat and the sand stuck to his vocal cords, grating on his voice.

I'm lost in you, he wanted to say. You're the reason I can't breathe right now.

But it wouldn't be fitting, because she was with someone else and he was treating her well, to his knowledge.

After all, he just wanted her to be happy.

But he was suffocating, training for a job he no longer wanted because he didn't want anything, really, if it didn't come with her.

So he ate and drank, worked with Ron and chuckled at Teddy, and he could be happy but he found himself gravitating towards a sense of purposelessness. Harry was worried about himself, perhaps not worried, but concerned that his survival seemed to depend on one woman.

How was that a fair trade? He couldn't seem to take a breath without smelling her vanilla scent around him and _on his bed in his blankets on his clothes_ but she could smile and laugh and shine as she always did, even before him, because she didn't need him the way he needed her.

He was lost, drifting in the spring showers that muddied the world and made it more beautiful in its frustratingly complicated way. As the rain dried up and the sun came out, so did the ray of hope in his heart that had never truly left. That single beam, that grew with the heat of the sun, clothed him in warmth and he knew, somehow, that she would come back to him and he to her.

Because he still loved her, and she had to know it, had to figure it out eventually. She had his heart to do with as she pleased, and how could she ignore that?

_Summer_

Come summer, Ginny felt the beats again. One, then two, she counted as her heart rejoined the rest of her body. It hammered strangely, not feeling like it used to, but it was something, wasn't it? It was a feeling of herself that she had lost months ago, and she found a simple pleasure in learning that she was not numb and could never be so.

But then what was this she felt when she looked into his green eyes?

Then again, she felt her breath leave her lungs and her heart stop and falter.

Even _his_ brown eyes couldn't do that, and _he_ was supposed to be flawless.

She supposed it was irony that when she found who she was supposed to be with she had nothing left to give, because it was already with someone who stole it from her, wrenching it out of her hands like a common thief.

Only that common thief was a hero with a scar of a lightning bolt on his forehead.

So with _his _brown eyes looking into hers, Ginny took a deep breath and said she was sorry, apologizing over and over for what _he_ had to have known was coming. After all, Ginny's romance with the one man who changed her life was legend, and it was destined for them to be together.

_He _had known that. But _he_ had given it a chance, a second chance if you will—Hogwarts romances in early years counted for little. Heavy heart aside, _he_ wished her the best and departed, knowing that her eyes would leave _his_ retreating figure and focus on nothing in particular thinking about something that seemed beyond her reach at the moment. And _he_ left, and she thought, and as _he_ looked back _he_ found her deep in contemplation and found _himself_ wishing that she was pining over _him_.

But she couldn't, could she. It wasn't her fault, because it was destiny.

Ginny was not supposed to love him. He was just a childhood crush, her boyhood hero that grew up into a man that was too good and too everything to be hers. He pushed her away and she relented, time and time again, until she realized what he was doing and pushed back for once.

The stars had written their future and they had written over it, carelessly scribbling with black ink over the constellations that spelled happiness for their fate.

But maybe, just maybe, Ginny could take an eraser and rub that out. What if it wasn't too late? What if her faintly beating heart had found its match, and what if he knew, _oh if only he knew_, that it was meant to be?

And as the hot sun faded back and leaves began to dry up, she felt a faint tingle of hope run up and down her spine as trees closed their eyes and settled in for a soft breeze.

Because she still loved him, and he had to know it, had to figure it out eventually. He had her heart to do with as he pleased, and how could he ignore that?

_Autumn_

The leaves crunched under their shoes, dark green and orange mixing together to make a colour so beautiful that autumn gasped in astonishment at its wonderful creation. As they walked, they looked, and almost touched hands at a point but at the last moment drew back, wary as always of what would happen next.

He was the first to let go of the fear.

"I love you," he whispered into the wind, the heavy breeze blowing his words into her whipped hair. "I can't let you go, I'm sorry. I can't."

Her face was flushed, cheeks stained with cold and she strained to hear his murmured acknowledgments over the roar of glee that her newly-restored heart was beating a drum to.

"It was a hard winter, Harry," she whispered back, her head leaning towards his as they stopped on a bridge. "It was a hard winter, a difficult summer, and a terrible spring and you weren't there."

"You weren't there either," he replied, his eyes catching hers for the first time in months. Brown met green and there were stars and sparks, but to those passing by they only saw a young woman and a man, heads together and hair entwined mixing black with red.

Then why, to the young pair, did it feel as if their worlds were spinning, colliding, and reuniting?

They were hoping that those passing by could also see the lights dancing in front of them and winking in merriment, because everyone should see this beautiful kind of love.

"I will always be lost without you, Ginny." He did not mince his words, and she loved that about him. No one else could say what she needed to hear, make her breathe with her lungs full of precious air.

"And when did you become so romantic?" Her quip made him smile, and her eyes crinkled at her own statement, and she only had eyes for him which was the way it had always been, really.

"Since that winter when I almost let you go." And he couldn't say more because he didn't need to, because she moved even closer to him, her hand fluttering to rest atop his.

"I love you too, you know." Her words were lost in the wind that twirled leaves about them, catching them up and throwing them back down like a petulant child. And she was okay with him not hearing those words because he knew it already, he had known it since she was twelve years old and she needn't say it often because it would lose its meaning. She closed her eyes as she felt the hope light a flame within her, and she was not mistaken in her faith.

When their lips finally touched, the magic flowed once again and each felt their heart restore its tempo in the places they belonged.

That autumn was refreshing, full of renewed vigour and optimism for the destiny that everyone else saw being played out in front of their eyes.

And Harry and Ginny? That autumn, they could finally breathe in the crisp air and not feel it catch in their throats.

**The end.**

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**Reviews? PLEASE? I'm not above begging, obviously. Also new chapter of Fifteen Months is up as well as Corridor Encounters and one or two more Draco oneshots (check out All The Great Things Are Simple).**


	20. Sofas and Surprises

**Chapter 20- Sofas and Surprises**

**Author: fairytalemanipulator**

**Summary: Ron really has to pee, Harry just wants Ginny to come home to her surprise party and Hermione has an ominous feeling…what will happen next??**

**A/N: WOW already the twentieth chapter! Well thank you all for making this a wonderful story, I can't believe I have over a 100 reviews!**

**Newest stories: new Draco oneshots (check out **_**All The Great Things**_** for kind of an outward look at Malfoy) also finally **_**The Quiddich Player and Other Stories**_**, a Ron/Hermione series of oneshots just like Pink Peppermint! SO EXCITING! Haha please review!**

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"I have to take a piss."

A hoarse whisper broke the stillness in the room. Behind the sofa, the crowd could clearly hear Hermione's heavy sigh.

"Honestly, Ronald! Didn't I tell you to go to the loo before?"

"Ron, mate, shut up, she's going to bloody be here any minute…" Harry pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, pushing his glasses back into their place. He too was hunched over behind the couch, along with twenty other people.

Everyone else, however, was silent.

"So are you telling me I don't have time to piss?"

"You're such an idiot, really,"

"You married me!" Ron huffed in a put-out tone of voice.

"I seem to have temporarily forgotten that," Snapping at him, Hermione crossed her arms with a smack. She then settled petulantly cross-legged next to Harry. "Buffoon…"

"Hermione. Ron. Both of you. Just please keep your mouths shut for another two minutes." Harry was not above begging at times, and he took no shame in that fact.

Well, except for when George decided to mimic him and the way he had groveled for Ginny's forgiveness after forgetting their third wedding anniversary.

"Whose idea was this surprise party anyway?" Ron was back to pouting, bouncing up and down on the balls of his heels as he squatted in front of Fleur and behind Lavender.

"Harry's. I told him, quite clearly, that if Ginny sees strangers crouched in the shadows of her sitting room she'll most likely hex first and ask questions later," Imperiously, Hermione made her statement, ignoring the worried gasps and the sudden "_Ginny wouldn't, would she?_" coming from Neville directly behind her. "What? She'll be _shocked, _she's a _witch_, its a dangerous combination! I can see the involuntary damage to your house now, Harry. This was a bad idea from the beginning, I say,"

"She wouldn't do that, she loves this bloody sofa too much," Harry dismissed their concerns with a sweep of his hand, the absence of light in the house making it look like he was swatting a fly. Indeed, Seamus, who was positioned next to Harry, ducked the man's waving hand and banged his head on the back of the sofa in question.

"Oy!" He muttered in Harry's direction, rubbing his forehead in consternation. "All of you, can it! She's due back in three minutes exactly according to the clock on the mantle, and if you want her birthday party to be a surprise then SHUT THE BLOODY HELL UP!"

Mollified, the Trio sat in silence for about another minute.

"I really do have to piss."

"Merlin, Ronald!" Hermione exploded, throwing up her hands in the air and knocking a yelping Parvati's bow off her head. "What _are_ we supposed to do with you? We don't even need to have children, you're child enough!"

The entire birthday group sighed and reclined in their positions, resigning themselves to a minute-long argument ending in Ron's apology and Hermione's acceptance.

Sadly, time they had not.

"Harry," Ginny's voice was heard from outside the front door. "Harry, why are all the lights off? Are you there?" Her key clicked in the lock as she muttered _Lumos_ to turn on the porch light.

"Dear?" She called, her trainers squeaking on the foyer linoleum. "Harry?"

She made her way into the sitting room, when all of a sudden the lights blinked on.

Ginny squinted in the sudden light and silence, the colours in the room all blending together. As her brain processed the sensory signals, she noticed the Muggle balloons clustered around the room, and enchanted red and gold streamers whizzing through the air. Confetti seemed to be raining from the skies, and a banner proclaimed a "Happy TWENTY-SECOND BIRTHDAY, Ginny!", singing the birthday song as it wrapped itself around her favorite sofa.

"What the—"

The room exploded with the sound of twenty people jumping up from behind said sofa shouting "HAPPY BIRTH—"

And then Ginny screamed, pulled out her wand, and threw some defensive reflexes that really, they should have seen coming.

---(A/N: Sorry I missed the separation with this, thanks to the reviewer who pointed this out!)

"Oh, dear, I really am sorry,"

"S'alright love, Hermione warned us. We'd do better to listen to her next time, and really, wasn't your fault for being so bloody startled,"

"Yes, but you were the one in the front! I feel so terrible, honestly, right after you've gone to all this trouble for me, I go and smash your face with a spell, oh poor Harry…"

"Gin, I promise it's all right. The giant bogeys didn't break much more than the china cabinet before Dean immobilised them, and my nose will be fine in a few hours, the healer said,"

"And the sofa's all right, isn't it? I saw a little singe mark on it but I can repair that. Oh, Merlin, I cannot believe I almost destroyed our furniture!"

Mutter. "Almost destroyed me as well…"

"Harry, the Mediwizard who arrived on the scene after my Impedimenta jinx set the kitchen on fire said that there was some strange liquid in the corner, by the sofa, but it wasn't blood…"

"Oh. Erm. Might want to talk to Ron about that."

"Why's that?"

"I suppose your hexes being thrown around startled him as much as they startled you,"

"I still don't understand, love,"

"Well, you see, he really had to pee…"

**The end.**

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**Please review!**


	21. The First Kiss

**Chapter 21- The First Kiss**

**Long Author's Note—sorry!**

**A/N: Addressing a couple reviews I had missed earlier—the reason it may not seem like the Potters are totally filthy rich all the time is because I think we all know that Harry wouldn't exactly act like Malfoy haha. I believe (or at least my story believes) that he would save most of it; he was pretty well off in his childhood too but he didn't throw it around. I'm sure he would want to save it for his kids' inheritance or something, so that would be why when they first got married they lived in a tiny crappy flat instead of a grand mansion. He's not the type of guy that would throw money in people's faces, and after the war I think he would want to try and live a bit of a normal life. Just had to throw that out there!**

**Second chapter of Quiddich Player up (R/Hr), also still writing Fifteen Months' epilogue.**

**Thanks to daniella for giving me the idea for their first kiss oneshot! Also thanks to all my other loyal reviewers, don't worry, I've noticed you, I just don't have time to respond to each one but THANKS SO MUCH!**

**  
Warnings for this story: gets a little hot and heavy but no sex, but this chapter would not be appropriate for small children (just in case you were wondering hahahaha)**

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Her lips were like fire searing through his own and his were like ice sending a thrilling shiver down her body; together they blazed down a trail unknown and eventually he also felt the fire that coiled in his stomach and raised sparks in his bright emerald eyes. They didn't hear the catcalls and the hoots of their classmates (_finally_, the romantics whispered as the jealous boys scoffed and the vain girls sighed) and her strong arms wrapped around his neck—his large hands wrapped around her waist, feeling the soft flesh beneath the Gryffindor sweater.

_Who cares about the match_, swooned the sentimental. It was so short and sweet and fiery and hot at the same time to the onlookers, and Ron Weasley was studiously looking anywhere but the couple.

And then, in a flash, it was over and they were gone—if the observers hadn't been watching with a hawk's eye they would have missed the quiet acceptance of the brother and the flitting emotions across the face of his best friend as he grabbed the youngest Weasley by the hand and tugged ever so gently...and she went, ever so willingly.

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"Where are we going?" Her whisper sent his heart into a flurry and he stumbled, momentarily clumsy, as he felt her hot breath on his neck.

"To celebrate the victory, of course," Harry murmured back, his hand pulling her close enough to throw an arm around her waist. She landed a small kiss on his shoulder and he shuddered, arousal gnawing away at gentlemanly proceedings. The halls were nearly empty, with the Ravenclaws mourning their loss and Gryffindors celebrating in their respective common rooms—for once, they were alone.

Ginny could wait no longer. The empty corridor loomed long before them and she did not possess the patience to keep walking when everything she wanted, everything she had in her hand at this moment was striding alongside her, his hand firm and taut on her slender waist.

Without a further thought, she pulled on his arm and opened the nearest door which happened to be the empty Transfigurations classroom.

"What are we..." His voice was smothered as her lips descended once more, the strawberry taste of her lip balm warring with the peppermint scent on her breath. Harry was tasting her, tongues together and apart teasingly, and he had never savoured something so sweet.

"You minx," Harry growled playfully, the lust shining strong in his eyes. He pushed her away with effort, trying to keep his urges at bay, and she took the time to turn away from him and adjust her sweater. "You brought me here to have your way with me!"

"What gave it away?" Ginny's seductively low pitched voice grated on his chest, and she paced like a predator towards him. Jeans and a red-gold sweater (_hugging every curve_) had never looked more luscious and his eyes traced the outlines of her body in the shadowed classroom.

She opened her mouth to say something else and found instead that she was having a hard time breathing (_in and out, just remember_), for Harry had, for once, made the first move. It was that mint and chocolate taste she had coveted for so long, his tongue darting artfully in and out of her mouth. She let out a groan and he answered her, his hands cupping her rear and swinging her body around so she was crushed against the wall. Panting, Ginny leaned her head back, red hair cascading in sweetly scented waves, as he sent a hot trail of wet kisses down the sensitive side of her neck. Harry stopped at the appropriate distance, his eyes lifting to meet hers with a questioning glance (_sweet seductress_). She hesitated for a moment before nodding, and he gently, hesitantly, lifted the bottom of her sweater and rested warm fingers on her equally hot bare skin. His breath came faster and Ginny felt something hard pressed against her upper thigh as he trailed his fingers around her lower stomach, moving in circles upward with blunt fingernails barely grazing the delicate pale abdomen. She looked upward, closing her eyes and fisting a small hand in his tangled black hair as he leaned down and kissed her stomach, unknowingly causing a flutter of feelings that pooled in lower regions of her body.

Slamming her back into the wall, Ginny ground her teeth at her animal instincts as she arched her back, letting out an involuntary keening sound. She kept her hand in his hair, craving the contact as he moved with her, pressing his body up against hers. Ginny felt his heart beating over hers; it hammered a rhythm that she had quietly hoped to hear for years. She parted her legs willingly (_sweet Merlin_), long legs encased in denim feeling constrained and tight. Harry stepped in between her open legs, the stark white wall serving as the backdrop as he caught her face in both of his hands and pressed another strong kiss on her puckered lips (_succulent strawberry_).

Somehow, he seemed to know her limits. Underneath the teenage hormones, he remembered that she was still young, and pulled away from her insistent lips (_swollen and begging for more_). Resting his forehead against her own, he felt her cool breath wash over him and tame his wild fantasies.

Sometimes, she didn't know when to pull away, her stubborn side running rampant as she bucked against him, getting the rise that she had been hoping for.

He ground out a "Ginny" in a hoarse voice before moving away completely, sitting on an empty desk with his head bowed low. She paused mid-motion, wondering if she did something wrong and feeling a self-doubt assert itself that hadn't been there since her first few years at Hogwarts. Her hair hung halfway over her face and her breathing was shaky, legs trembling in the aftermath of adrenaline.

"We have to go slow, Ginny," he breathed, hardly thinking twice about the words, not caring if _shagging_ was out of the question for the night because _Merlin's beard she's with me_. He knew one thing, and one thing only—this perfect young woman, beautiful little witch—she deserved much more (_love_) than a Transfigurations classroom in the middle of the night. "For us, for you—we have to go slow."

Before he could utter another word, a little bundle of red and gold (_perfect_) flew into his arms, hugging him tightly because _I'm not ready either_.

Ginny held onto him for minutes, maybe hours—they lost track of time as they stood entwined just_ breathing_ for the first time in a long time.

_What did I do to deserve you_, they were both thinking, minds alight in joy and hope.

Ginny Weasley had been with boys before, boys that made her feel those clenchings and tightenings of heart and body, boys that made her wail with ecstasy at their perfect kisses and longing caresses.

Ginny had never, however, been with a boy that she wanted to give her virtue to; to share that special gift, she had known it would take more than charm and meaningless words. Harry, with his fumbling touch and tempting lips—yes, he would be her first. But not tonight, because Ginny was truly a bit of a romantic, and losing her virginity in a dark Transfigurations did seem a bit tacky.

So for now they walked, a bit messy in hair and rumpled in clothing, hand in hand with secret smiles on their faces. A slow stroll led them back to the common room, where the party had long since ended—yet, surprisingly, the embers in the fireplace still burnt bright and hot. Flames rekindled by a quickly murmured spell, they sat until early morning, speaking when was necessary and falling silent when no words were needed—then, as fate would have it, falling asleep with her head lolling on his chest, his arms cradled around her body.

They were woken in the dawn hour by house-elves beginning to tidy up the common room, and as they headed back to their respective dorms, they sent furtive glances at the other—for they truly had no idea what wonders their future would bring (_only the beginning_).

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**The end.**

**I have to admit I found this little delve into that night quite fascinating. Tell me what you think, I hope I did it justice—if you guys really hate it I can do it over!**


	22. Fourteen Bottles

**Chapter 22- Fourteen Bottles**

**Review? Please? I'm having a bad day, your reviews can cheer me up!**

Fourteen different bottles of mead and firewhiskey presented themselves on the shelf before him.

Fourteen ways to forget Ginny Weasley.

They glimmered and changed colour before his very eyes, the Ogden's turning from a bright orange to murky yellow that danced and swam before his drunken eyes.

"I think you've had enough, mate," Ron said quietly from beside him. Harry started, forgetting there was someone else beside him. His best friend was attempting to pull the glass half full of red currant rum from his hand, but Harry simply held on tighter.

"Not yet."

His words weren't slurring yet, and he was still trying to focus his eyes on the bottle of Ogden's before him that in a split second became purple. All of a sudden, Rosmerta's face appeared in his cloudy vision.

"I'm cutting you off, Potter," she said determinedly, yanking the glass from his hand with a force Ron couldn't have used. "I'm counting on Weasley here to Apparate you home safely."

"Not going home," Harry muttered in a cracked voice, now examining the scratches in the bar of the Three Broomsticks. They were jagged, almost as if someone tried to carve a message with a knife into the wood. He outlined them with a shaking finger, noticing how ragged his nails were.

"Where are you going to go, then?" Ron was exceedingly patient with him, but Harry had to remember that it was his sister that did this. His sister, so he couldn't possibly understand.

"The Burrow."

"Ginny's at the Burrow," the redhead's quiet voice echoed in the stillness of the closed tavern, with the remaining patrons grabbing their cloaks and stepping outside to Disapparate.

Cracks echoed in the background as the last witches and wizards went home to their wives, husbands, or children. Hogsmeade was quiet now, snow blanketing and silencing all other noises.

_Ginny's at the Burrow_, Harry thought hazily. _It'd be nice to pop in and say hello, what with his girlfriend there and all_--

He choked on his thoughts, suppressing a sudden urge to laugh._ Ex-girlfriend. Right._

Ron's eyes were boring into his head, looking at him worriedly. "Come spend the night with me and Hermione, mate. Her parents just left so we've still got the guest room all made up,"

"I can't do that to you, Ron," Harry's mind registered the thought of sleeping in the same house as his best friends while they tried to act less like a couple so not to make him feel bad. "I'll just--I'll go stay with Neville or something."

"Neville's out of the country, so's his wife, they've gone with that one bloke off doing plant research in-"

"Well DAMMIT THEN I'll sleep on the streets!" Harry roared, effectively cutting Ron off. His friend's face registered shock and then a vague tightening of the lips. Harry was sorry for his outburst but he was sick and tired of no one able to aid in his plight.

"Right then..." Ron trailed off softly, at a loss. "Erm--" Suddenly he caught sight of a flurry of snow from the opening front door. "Rosmerta, aren't you closed?" He asked the bartender who was polishing glasses that aligned magically in the air, keeping one eye on the distraught black-haired boy.

"Yes, I am," replied the older witch in a clipped tone. "Let me see who it is,"

With an _alohomora_ from the owner, the second door swung open to reveal none other than a red-nosed, scarlet-haired vision of beauty in a furry white coat and purple knit mittens. Rosmerta's eyebrows raised, and she immediately grabbed the till and headed into the back room, leaving the two men and one young woman to themselves.

"Ginny," Ron warned shivering girl, catching her red-rimmed eyes and shaking his head slightly. She snarled slightly at him, and her brother stepped back a bit. "Gin. Now's not the best time..."

She shushed him, her eyes on Harry's back. "Harry--"

The man whipped around with a force that almost sent him tumbling to the ground, not having seen who it was that entered the pub. "Ginny, wha--why--how are you---here?"

She ignored his words, her hardened eyes softening at the obvious look of pain on his face. "Harry, I'm sorry."

Ron glanced between the two, and coughing gently he excused himself, wandering to the edge of the establishment and trying to keep his eyes in the opposite direction.

"Harry."

Harry refused to meet her tender gaze, staring at the wooden boards beneath their feet instead. Oak, he supposed, or perhaps maple. The floor was tilting slightly under his feet...when had he gotten to his feet? Looking up in confusion, Harry was startled to be face to face with bright brown eyes that were swimming with emotions he had suppressed with alcohol and swearing.

"I'm so sorry, love," Ginny murmured, taking off her mittens and laying a cold hand on his warm, trembling face. He closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her skin on his. Her small thumb traced the outline of his jaw, and he felt like melting right before her and falling through the cracks in the floor.

"I'm sorry too," he whispered, catching her small fingers with his and threading them through. "I didn't mean to say what I said..."

"Neither did I."

There was silence in the room for a moment, except for the sound of Rosmerta tallying up her cash count in the next room over. Ron dared not to breathe, and was staring with concentration at the trees outside the window.

"Where do we go from here, Gin?" Harry felt suddenly sober, a cold wave crashing upon him. What if it was all lost? What if they had gone too far with words and actions to trace back to who they had been?

He hadn't realized he voiced those thoughts out loud until he looked at Ginny again, and she stood frozen, majestic as an ice queen with stony eyes staring back at him.

"We've come too far to let it all go to waste," her hard voice lashed out at him, coming through gritted teeth. "Are you willing to let go of us, Harry, over one stupid bloody fight?"

Dead silence reigned, and even Madam Rosmerta had stilled in the next room over.

Harry remembered, then. He remembered giving her up before the war, and needing her during. He closed his eyes and saw her face after, when she was in mourning, and then the first time she smiled again nearly a week later.

"I'll never give up on us," he murmured, still lost in his thoughts. He opened his eyes in time to see a watery smile break upon the face of an angel standing before him.

"Then I won't give up either."

They reached for each other in unison and shared a sweet, new kiss, basking in the dusk recently fallen, forgetting the rest of the world and namely a redheaded brother who was looking on in slight disapproval and mild acceptance. The fourteen bottles on the shelves dimmed in comparison to the couple entwined around each other near the entrance to the Three Broomsticks.

"Come home," she whispered, her eyes glittering in the dimness of the pub. "Come home with me."

He didn't feel inebriated, although he was sure he still was. Harry simply hoped it wasn't all a drunken fantasy, because the next morning he wanted to be laying next to this woman of his, mending the -fences that were not—under any circumstances—broken forever.  
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**A/N: Sorry for the late update, I started another year of medical school so basically, I'll be updating once a week or so. I hope you're not disappointed by this chapter, please tell me if you are. I didn't mention what they were fighting about because is it really important? It's not the fight that matters, it's what happens after—or at least that's my motto.**


	23. Steps

**Chapter 23- Steps**

**You guys overwhelmed me with reviews, fave authors, and fave stories for the latest chapters of Pink Peppermint! I am amazed! Y'all rock! Just for that I'm putting up a chapter today, because I really love this chapter and it has to be my favorite out of all of them. It's a little out there, so sorry if you don't understand all of it!**

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Six steps behind Harry at the Yule Ball with Neville and they twirled and laughed but she only had eyes for him and his silly black hair that would never lay flat. One step closer but Neville pulled her four steps away, whirling with the music, and she is wishing she was closer to Harry again.

Four steps behind him, she hears Hermione state that Cho simply couldn't keep her hands eyes off Harry and she is so jealous that she makes it eight steps of separation.

Three steps behind him in the Room of Requirement and she hears him rudely excuse Fred and George, eyes only for the slender Asian girl mournfully looking at Cedric's picture on the mirror, and she turns to leave before she says something she'll regret. Accidentally four steps behind him the next morning, she hears him mention the kiss and he doesn't notice her when she grimaces, doesn't see her when she reddens with embarrassment, and doesn't pay attention when she puts five steps between them.

Then she decides she will no longer be steps behind him so she dates around just to see how he will feel, if he would feel anything at all, when he is two steps behind her and catches the look that Dean gives her before placing a gentle hand on the small of her back.

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Two steps behind Ginny, he watches with disguised, disgusted envy as Dean puts his hands on her body and guides her in a way most romantic. He wants to pull him back by the collar and replace himself in that position but he can't figure out why, so he settles for being five steps behind her and seething internally.

Twelve more steps and he could run up and pummel the Gryffindor boy who is still oblivious to his presence, still kissing those dark pink lips with a vigour that make him automatically grind his teeth. Beside him, Ron is going into hysterics but he is calm and controlled on the outside because he doesn't believe that he can feel this way about his best mate's sister. Three steps later Dean notices and grins at Harry with an arm still wrapped around the girl's waist, as if expecting a clap on the back, and Ginny is the one who reads his expression correctly and looks mortified and oddly frustrated. She pulls her boyfriend away into a shadowy corner and disappears, her whispers haunting his ears, the voice touching his heart in an uncertain manner.

Nine steps and he's rounding the corner, hoping to catch one more glimpse of her but she's gone with Dean, of course, because that's who she's with. He shakes his head, wondering what's come over him, so what if he hasn't spoken to her in ages? She has her own life, and he has no way of knowing that thirty-three steps away Ginny Weasley is by herself again, leaning against a wall and suppressing tears from squeezing out of overly bright brown eyes.

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Eight steps bring them together for the first time, lips connecting to a chorus of claps and cheers by their fellow Gryffindors. She strides with eyes blazing and purpose in her walk, and he meets her halfway with a knowing smile on his flushed, exhilarated face. Two more steps and they are wrapped around each other like tinsel on a Christmas tree and she never wants it to be over.

Fifteen steps took them outside the common room where they walk, hand in hand, sneaking glances at each other until they pass the empty Transfigurations classroom and she pulls him into it.

Three steps and her lips are crashing upon his once again, and then he stops counting the steps because they move as one.

---

Only forty-six steps between her and the rest of her life, and in the brilliantly white wedding gown designed by Madam Malkin herself she finds herself shaking as the confidence dissolves. She isn't alone, however, in the last minutes before the wedding, and she hears stilettos clacking on all sides of her as Hermione and Fleur wrap their arms around her and hold her there.

One step away and she looks at them, the blushing matrons-of-honor and sisters-in-law that do not look at all like she would think a wife to look like—they look the same, perhaps a few lines on the forehead but nothing else. Then again, she will be a wife in a matter of minutes and she certainly wasn't expecting a magical change to come over her. Or perhaps she spoke too soon.

Eight steps to the door and she paces nervously, gathering her wits before throwing open the double doors and striding out into the hallway where they all stand around her, supporting her, the women of the families that united in holy matrimony who had been in this very same position a matter of years ago.

Four steps closer and she hears a tinkling of laughter as George does something ridiculous and both Angelina and Mr. Weasley shout at him; hears the rustle and murmur of dress fabrics worn specially for the union of the Boy-Who-Lived and the only daughter of the Weasleys; sees the look in her mother's eyes as the band finally begins to play and the older woman places a small, loving hand on her daughter's arm—a single tear falls straight from the loving mother's eye to the wooden floor beneath their feet.

Two more steps and the doors are ceremoniously thrown open, exposing the entire backyard and an accumulation of people she certainly never expected to turn up. One step more as the band finished the opening march, heading into the wedding steps, and she sees the Lovegoods, Andromeda and Teddy, George and Angelina, Ron fighting back tears, Hagrid losing the fight against tears as usual, Minerva McGonagall who looks outwardly delighted for the first time Ginny can remember and Neville grinning happily all to himself.

Another two steps and she sees the strength of the love and devotion shimmering in the eyes of everyone around her as they turn and stand for the bride making her slow, peaceful way down the aisle for once instead of the ruckus that Ginny Weasley usually caused wherever she went. One step at a time she marches, catching the eyes of Lavender and Parvati who smile and wave with tear tracks on their lovely cheeks, Seamus Finnigan looking so happy he could explode, Kingsley Shacklebolt nodding encouragingly with bright, joyous eyes and her father, dear old Dad, who is watching her with such pride and tenderness for his girl that she wants to hurl herself into his arms again like when she was five years old.

Six steps in and she feels the losses, all over again, worse than it had been at Ron's wedding because this is _her_ wedding and she wishes with all her heart that she could share it with Tonks and Lupin, Fred, good old Mad-Eye and Sirius—she wishes for Harry's sake that Sirius was here today. One more step and her eyes water but _no_ because Fleur told her in no uncertain words that tears would ruin the makeup she slaved over all morning.

Six more steps and the magical red carpet rolls up behind her, the aisle is so short yet so long and there he stands—words escape her, because he walks to steps and offers her his hand and she is lost all over again in that penetrating, soulful gaze. She doesn't see the decorations, doesn't give anything more than a cursory glance even though she knows that the canary-bedecked archway and blossoming rose bushes planted along the aisle took time and effort—her eyes still on the gently smiling form in front of her.

Two steps and they are standing in front of the same minister that had presided over all the Weasley weddings. A breeze blows in the scent of fresh rain and she just looked at Harry with a secretive smile as the people in attendance look at the gathering clouds in alarm—rain is nothing new to them, they have been through worse. He threads his fingers through hers and turns his attention to the man in front of them but she catches the sideways glances he'd throw at her, yes, she saw and she takes one small step (a shuffle, really), to his side.

Three steps is all it takes after they had kissed a tender but passionate kiss for the tears to come pouring down as she walks back down the aisle through clapping row after clapping row of family and friends; yet her mother and father's faces stand out and she can't help feeling terrified that she's no longer the little girl. She realizes that this is it and she is a woman, she is a wife, and she has never been so sad and so ecstatic at the same time.

Only five steps later, when they are still crying and giggling and Fleur is gritting her teeth at the ruined eye makeup, do the clouds finally break and the torrential rain falls in sheets, soaking witches and wizards (and Muggles, for Hermione's parents are in attendance) that are not quick enough with a Bubble-Head or Impervius charm (or in the Grangers' case, an umbrella).

Twenty-three steps later she and Harry are still laughing and running around to the front of the Burrow where there are no guests and in the rain he looks more handsome than ever; her hair is glued to her head and the makeup is running in streaks and leaking on the beautiful white dress but she has never cared less because they share their first, private kiss on the lawn of her childhood home. She knows it will never be the same and she doesn't worry because love changes many things, and she can take it as long as he is in step with her on the way through.

---

Seventy-eight steps and he paces around the kitchen yelling at her and himself before he leaves, banging the door shut for good measure. Seventeen steps and he Disapparates with a crack, _most likely to the Leaky Cauldron where he'll get a good Firewhiskey and complain about his bloody stupid wife_ and she fought back the tears because she refuses to cry about the prat, refuses to be afraid that she's driven him away.

Eighteen steps and she runs upstairs to their bed, throwing herself on it and beating the soft mattress with furious fists. She wipes away the angry tears forming in her eyes, scraping her cheeks until they're raw because she is a stronger woman than to cry over something like this. Her heart and mind are utterly exhausted and she finds herself weeping involuntarily in a way she had never before wept. Before she knows it, she falls asleep with tears still gathering and it's almost midnight when she hears the footsteps coming up the stairs, and she knows he's home.

Seven more steps and he's cautiously approaching the bed, meeting her just-opened swimming eyes with sober emerald irises. Wordlessly, he takes three more steps and pulls a bouquet of flowers from behind his back—_lilies_.

One step and she pushes off the bed and into his arms, murmuring forgiving words and exchanging apologies most unnecessary for it is only their first month of marriage.

---

Fifty-nine steps had never seemed so far and he is running with all his might to the maternity ward of St. Mungo's because he would never forgive himself if he missed this moment, so he forgot about his sprained ankle and the auror meeting he dashed out of as soon as Mrs. Weasley Flooed; he didn't feel the pain as he goes fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven steps and he stops, panting as he throws open the doors of the delivery room.

Four precarious steps later and he's at her side as she's screaming up at him but not actually at him, he believes; the Healers are spluttering at her profane language and he's just chuckling because he can't help it even when she turns fuming eyes on him. He can always soften that bloodthirsty look and he does it now, she even lets out a small smile which turns into a grimace as the next contraction occurs and she screams bloody murder that makes the Healers-in-training squeal.

Fifteen steps and he's running out to the waiting room where he sees the whole family and they jump up at his appearance, haggard and disheveled for it is two o'clock in the morning and the Potters have just had their first child, a lovely healthy baby boy named James Sirius and the name itself is enough to make the members of the family lapse into silence at the simple honour it bestows.

Twenty-four steps and he's by her side again, brushing away the sweaty clumps of dark red hair framing her face as she rests on the St. Mungo's hospital bed. He's wrapping himself in her blankets as she painfully moves over to give him room and they sleep, both waking occasionally with disorientation only to remember what has happened on that very night. He waits until she is breathing deeply then gently eases himself off the bed and takes eight steps out the door and across the hall into the nursery where his feet carry him five steps more—and he finds the bundle of black hair that sticks out among the rest of the infants, sees the chubby waving fist and succumbs to silent tears of joy that the Healers are kind enough to ignore. They leave him to his first moments of fatherly pride.

Six steps up the front steps to their house and Ginny steps gingerly, still feeling a bit sore, holding James protectively in her arms as Harry holds her around the waist for support although she swats his hands away. Four steps in and he takes her jacket and suitcase, throws them carelessly in the sitting room and they both stand, gazing open-mouthed in wonderment at the life they brought into this world. Together they take in the little button nose, flighty tufts of black hair and fingers so tiny it's unbelievable.

Four steps to the door as a flurry of knocks gives way to a herd of family members and best friends, well-wishes and coos heard over the child but he finds Ginny's red hair bundled atop her head over all the din and catches her eyes, smiling a proud smile that she returns with love, for she is now a mother and he is a father.

---

In the end it's not any of their steps that they end up remembering, it's the steps they had never thought about. First steps of their children, recalled in an instant by either doting parent. Steps that led to tumbles and broken bones, which sent Ginny into a Mrs. Weasley-like frenzy and Harry into a booming typhoon of anger against whoever or whatever caused his children's pain. Those hesitant steps into the Hogwarts Express after which they both shuddered in agony, for their children were growing up and would soon be counting steps of their own.

The gentle steps that led to the first day at the Ministry for James, a job at Witch Weekly for Lily and a career at Hogwarts itself for Albus—those were fond memories, indeed.

Then there were the weddings, the steps that they unknowingly kept track of as they prepared to relinquish their children to adulthood.

Of course, after the weddings came the brightest wonder yet, that they would count the steps of in astonishment at the years passing by.

Why, what else? It was the first steps of their grandchildren, of course.

---

**Well I spent an entire night writing this and I have to say it's probably one of my favorites—yes, there are a lot of run on sentences but I did that on purpose, this is mostly about thoughts and feelings which don't go according to laws of grammar.**

**Please leave a review, I would greatly appreciate it! Harry Potter fans are the best, love you!**


	24. Overheard Conversations

**Pink Peppermint **

**Chapter 24: Overheard Conversations and Mistaken Impressions**

**Summary: Ginny is rather appalled by a conversation she's eavesdropping on at the Burrow. Good for the laughs! Read and review.**

**Warning: If you have a dirty mind, this fic is for you—not outright disgusting, don't worry, I don't write that. Maybe not suitable for younger readers, but they probably won't understand so it's all good.**

----

A week after Ron and Hermione came back from their honeymoon, they all spent the night at the Burrow to relive old times. Harry and Ginny, newly engaged, arrived just in time for the family dinner. Afterwards, the children were herded off to bed as the men groaned and waddled with their enlarged bellies towards the couches, glasses of Firewhiskey in tow.

Following Fleur and kissing her little niece Victoire goodnight, Ginny found herself wandering up and down the second floor corridor, exploring the places she had found so interesting when younger.

Oddly enough, loud voices were coming from Percy's old room, echoing off the neatly polished floors. Ever curious, Ginny ambled over to the oak door and pressed an ear against it.

"---what do you mean the equipment malfunctioned?"

"I just stuck it in, mate, I didn't know it would do that! It wasn't supposed to…to—explode all over like that! It even made sounds, disgusting sounds!"

Ginny gasped, her hand quickly rising to cover her mouth. Ron's voice was sheepish, and Harry's response sounded rather amused to Ginny's shock.

"I can't believe it, what did Hermione say?"

"She…she just laughed, and said that she hadn't expected anything else. She's done it loads of times, but I guess it's 'cause she's Muggleborn, right?"

Both men chortled, and Ginny found her cheeks reddening at her eavesdropping. Perhaps this was one of those 'boys only' conversations…but _Ronald! Really! _Talking about his _wife_ and her—her history, in such a manner!

Ginny was frozen in horror and found her limbs unresponsive and unwilling as the talk continued within.

"Well I was raised with Muggles, I reckon I've only done it a couple of times—rather, I watched Dudley do it, it's not like my uncle and aunt would ever let _me_ put anything in there!" Harry sounded cheerful, and Ginny could hear him moving about inside the room. _Mum always said there were things we don't know about men…_More laughter, and the young woman felt bile rising in the back of her throat. The ear pressed against the door grew hot and numb and she switched positions.

"I suppose I just didn't expect it to be that…stiff, you know? I thought it would be floppier, bit more flexible, that's why I didn't know what to do with it! Hermione called me inexperienced, it made me see red, mate! It's like, just because I haven't done this as many times as you have, you act as if I'm no longer a man!"

"Ron, I'm sure she didn't mean it that way, your manhood is safe," Harry joked, chuckling. Ginny's breath was coming in shallow gasps, and she wiped at the sweat collecting on her brow in abject disgust. _How could Harry joke about such a despicable matter?_

"Did you break it?" Harry inquired, the squeaking of bedsprings indicating that someone had settled on the bed.

"No I didn't break it!" Ron sounded appalled, and Ginny winced "I told you, it just malfunctioned, we tried again later and it worked just fine. Hermione was very satisfied, said I did a good job this time, and maybe next time I'll be as quick as her! If I remember correctly, she used that little bookworm voice of hers and went all 'Well Ronald, practise makes perfect, and I practised every chance I got back in the Muggle world!'"

The redhead listening in on the conversation was sputtering in agony, utterly sickened.

"Well, Ron, at least now you know what it's like! Ginny's lucky, she was born talented unlike her big brother," At this point, Ginny was shaking in fury and Ron snorted with laughter. "If she ever tries it, I'm sure she won't struggle quite as hard! And I certainly won't laugh at her like Hermione did to you, poor lad,"

Ginny's eyes blazed with rage, and she felt her dignity tower above all else. How _dare_ Harry talk to her _brother _about such practices…her _brother_, who of all people should be mutilating Harry for even voicing such an opinion but—Ginny's eyes widened as she smashed her ear further into the door, trying to decipher the sounds from within—was that _giggling_?

A young woman has a limit, after all!

The door was thrown open with a resounding crash, and a small figure with fiery red hair stood with fists clenched under the doorway. Ron automatically raised his hands, confused, and Harry whirled around and tripped on his shoelaces. In her gaze of destruction, Ginny noticed a peculiar object resting next to Ron on the bed.

"How—when—what—what is that?" Ginny finally demanded, her stutters subsiding. A wavering finger pointed at the black rectangular object, innocent in size and shape.

The two men looked at each other in utter perplexity, then at the bristling young woman.

"How dare you? How could you talk about---_what is that_?" Ginny's voice boomed, insistent upon knowing the content of the object. Her finger moved forward until it poked the standing man, his black hair waving back and forth as he stumbled under the force of the prod.

"The…the wedding video!" Harry stammered, eyeing her with a look of concern. "Remember, Hermione wanted it recorded the Muggle way so her parents could see it?"

"Oi, what else would we be talking about?" Ron looked at his sister in puzzlement, scratching the top of his head.

Ginny's stomach sank as her face lit up in embarrassment. "Oh…you were—you were talking about the video?"

"Right, quite ashamed of it, really, Hermione made loads of jokes at my expense. I couldn't figure out how to put it into the—what's it called, mate?"

Harry chipped in, narrowing his eyes at his fiancée in bemusement. "VCR, Ron. Ginny, you all right there?"

"I'm fine," Ginny said faintly, her mouth twitching. She swayed a bit on her feet, mind whirling.

_Bloody hell, I'm a dolt. _Ginny shook her head at herself, unable to control the mirth that bubbled to the surface. _Of course they wouldn't_—

"Hey Gin," Ron said, his voice alight with innocent curiosity. "What did you think we were talking about?"

**The End.**

**A/N: Hee hee hee. **

**What did you think they were talking about? Geez.**

**Sorry SORRY SORRY! I haven't updated in so long but I have exams this week and I needed to get something out of my system, I'll try not to let it be so long before I update again. Please review and tell me what you think, give me ideas for new chapters too, I want to know what you all want to see! Love you guys.**


	25. The First Christmas

_Author's Note: Hello. I know I have been gone for a long time and I wanted to say oh GOODNESS __**I am so sorry!**__ Work literally took over my life. This is just a little mushy mushy piece I wanted to throw out there in honour of Christmas! PS- I know it's probably not factually correct with dates and people present on those dates and such but it's a story, so chill. :P xoxo_

**Chapter 25—The First Christmas**

**Christmas Eve**

She was alone on Christmas Eve for the first time in her life. There had always been a bustling family present, with enough food to fill the entire country's appetite and good company around the dinner table with enough Christmas cheer to last long into the new year. This winter, however, was the first holiday after the war. There were twice as many decorations and just as much holiday spirit; it was, however, as forced as the smile Molly Weasley was displaying throughout the entire month. Christmas had been the twins' favourite holiday—this year, George went to America on a business trip for the month, Bill and Fleur were in France with the Delacours, Ron was with Hermione for his first Muggle Christmas and the Weasley parents had decided, in lieu of traditional celebrations, to take a much needed vacation in Tibet. The family's first Christmas apart, spend with other families in hopes that time would heal the wound that the war left in the midst of their beloved holiday.

Everyone needed a break from the customary festivities this year.

Christmas was Ginny Weasley's favourite holiday. When she was much younger, Fred and George had charmed tree ornaments into her long tangled red hair. She had gone about pretending to be a Christmas tree, not minding at all, until Mrs. Weasley had scolded the boys within an inch of their lives. She had loved being a part of the wintry holidays—snow falling quietly outside the picturesque bay window as the family gathered 'round to share in joy. At Hogwarts she had rather enjoyed staying for Christmas the seldom times she did—often she was held back with those reluctant to partake in Christmas such as Ebenezer himself, Draco Malfoy. It had never brought her happiness down however—she had worn her mother's sweaters in reluctant loyalty and decorated the Gryffindor Christmas tree like it was her own.

Tonight, however, Ginny Weasley was alone and unenchanted by the magical evening. It would be a white Christmas, or so the weather wizard had predicted—the clouds outside gathered ominously above her flat, threatening to drown her in more than just sleet. The window in the sitting room had an ever expanding crack in it that she never had mended—Harry had promised he would do it sometime, he was much better at the handyman spells than she. Frigid December air blew onto her cheek, providing a welcome reprieve from the burning fireplace she had stoked to the brim with fresh logs. The only semblance of a happy Christmas was the lone card sitting on the mantle, a picture of a furiously waving Mr. and Mrs. Weasley at some old Tibetan ruins proclaiming HAPPY HOLIDAYS in bright green and red lettering. The living room was undecorated, no tree stood aloft with its sparkling tinsel and shining star, wreaths were lacking from door decorations, and no stockings hung from the mantle. There was also another visible missing piece in the small apartment. There was no Harry Potter, either.

Harry was away on a secret mission, called by the Minister himself—_"I can't say no, Gin." _He had whispered to her tenderly the night before last, cupping her sour face with calloused hands. She knew it was important especially if it had to be during this week, knew it was his duty to protect the country he was sworn to and yet she found it difficult to understand because it would have been their first Christmas together. She didn't tell her brothers or parents—they would have invited her to their little festivities, and she would have most likely have found a bottle of Firewhiskey and frightened the children all day long. So therefore, she was alone on Christmas Eve for the first time in her life.

"_I'll try to be back in time, love. Why don't you pick up a small tree, or throw around some garlands? Get in the spirit and I'll celebrate with you as soon as I can!"_ He was the Christmas spirit, his emerald eyes sparkling like the decorated trees she had always loved, red Weasley sweater that her mum had sent along as an early gift displayed proudly on his body. But he had pulled on his dark forest green Auror cloak and grabbed the overnight bag he kept in the hallway closet, placing a tender kiss on her pouting lips as he Disapparated along with what was remaining of her holiday love. She could still feel his lips on hers, smelling faintly of peppermint and what she was missing right now.

Now she was alone, dozing by the fire as the wireless played old Celestina Warbeck holiday classics from her mother's time. Flicking her wand with a lazy movement, she shut it off, basking in the silence that signalled to her the end of what she had always celebrated. _Everyone grows up sometime I suppose. Can't always get what we want, especially when one's betrothed is the Boy Who Lived._

Her red and green socks had a hole in the toe. She wore them out of habit on the the 24th, keeping them out of sight in slippers or shoes the entire day. But she could feel the hole, wriggling around—could be easily mended with a simple sewing charm and yet it seemed to echo her sentiments of the day, so it remained. She wiggled said toe, looking at it move with a detached amusement. This is what Christmas Eve had come to. Soup and crackers for dinner and toe-wiggling for sport.

The solitaire-cut diamond engagement ring glistened on her left hand, firelight throwing it into prismed beams of light dancing across the window, reflecting over the cold outdoors. Ginny was suddenly overcome by melancholy, clenching her teeth against the burdening feeling of gloom as she wrapped her robe tighter around herself, a chill running up her spine.

She was alone on Christmas Eve for the first time in her life.

---

She must have fallen asleep at some point, because she was woken by a crack and a grunt. A tinkling noise, much like glass being rubbed together, was echoing outside of her ground-floor townhome styled flat. Her hair, rubbed messy against the back of the velvet armchair, stood on end as the grating sound frayed her nerves. Recognizing the obvious sound of apparition, her heart leapt in her throat as she considered possibilities. Harry? Ron? Rogue Death Eaters? All seemed plausible but not likely—probably just old Mrs. Noggin wandering off again. Grasping her wand in her hand, she flipped out of her chair with practiced ease, wincing as the holey sock gave her bare foot contact with cold wooden floor. More sounds from outside danced about and she realized that the cause of the amplification was the thick blanket of snow coating the earth, and still falling from the sky.

"How long was I asleep for?" Ginny murmured to herself in astonishment, lowering her wand, unguarded. She stared out her big window, feeling a swell of longing in her heart as she watched thick flakes of ice and beauty gather on the windowsill outside.

A dark head popped into the frame, orange light from the fireplace making it seem as if it were floating; still half asleep, Ginny let out a frightened shriek and raised her wand, a Bat Bogey Hex stopping at the tip of her tongue as she recognized the face that was thrown into light.

He was calling to her, saying something that she couldn't hear—the glass was ever so thick, his voice tinny and undecipherable. Seemingly floating on air, Ginny made her way to the front door, opening it to a blast of winter breeze and peppermint scent.

"Told you I'd make it back in time, didn't I?" Harry panted, his cloak smeared with snow and pine needles. _Pine needles?_

"Erm, I brought you something. Of course it's not your only present, I just thought you might like a…" His words were cut off by searing lips pressed into his own, the heat from her face quickly warming up his own. She pulled herself off of him, still in a daze.

"This isn't a dream, is it? If it is I will wake up so bloody furious," Ginny muttered to herself, looking up at the seven-foot-tall fully decorated Christmas tree Harry was levitating behind him. "You didn't steal this one, did you?"

"Course not. What do you take your boyfriend for, a fool?"

"No," Ginny murmured tenderly, as she brushed gathering snow off of Harry's shoulders. "Most certainly not."

"Well come on then! You're going to freeze, bloody hell, look at that sock! Don't stand in the snow with that, no, don't help me, you go inside and I'll follow,"

As she watched her soon-to-be husband shrink the tree to fit it inside the door, she felt a warm feeling previously related to eggnog rise up in her chest. A gradual heat settled over her fingertips and toes, the frost of the outdoors wearing off as Harry shut the door and unwound the scarf from around his neck. He turned, spotting his fiancée gazing up at the tip-top of the Christmas tree, the shining golden star revolving slowly, magically. Her braided hair was frizzy, flannel pyjamas hanging loosely off her body and those ridiculous old red and green socks reflected in every flicker of the fire—yet he had never seen her more radiant, revelling in her essence and praising Merlin that he had raced home in time.

"It's beautiful." Her large brown eyes were pooled with memories of the past, lost in the reminders that surprisingly didn't sadden her—in fact, she felt an overpowering strength and love within her as she remembered the Christmases of her younger years.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be here sooner, Gin," he said softly, dropped the cloak onto the couch. She snapped out of her thoughts, soft lips pricking upwards in a gentle smile. "I got away as soon as I could, took care of what I needed to and got out. I couldn't leave you alone this year, for our first Christmas—the first Christmas."

Involuntary tears pricked at her eyes and she blinked them away, her vision filling with this man who knew just what she needed. "Well I'm rather bloody glad, Harry James Potter. I don't know what I would have done on Christmas day with no tree, no decorations, no family, and no you,"

"Lucky you, you'll never have to be without those things again." He stole close to her, wrapping his arms around her small sides as she giggled, looking beautiful as the light from the fire glanced off of her dark red hair. He twirled her around, little socked feet lifting off the ground as she giggled like a child, her mussed hair coming undone from its braid and streaming down her back in a wave. Brown eyes met sparkling green as they kissed, sparks inadvertently shooting from the wand Ginny was still unconsciously clasping in her hand. Giggling, she dropped it as it released a stream of harmless red sparks, her hand stroking the slightly damp, slightly cold black hair of the boy she loved.

"You brought my Christmas spirit back," she whispered, barely realizing what she had said as she hugged him tightly to her small frame, feeling his outdoor chill melt away with her indoor warmth. Harry tightened strong arms around her, his lips touching her neck.

"I'll always be here to do that for you, Ginny Weasley," he murmured into her, moving his lips from her neck to her freckled, blushing cheek. "Happy Christmas, Gin."

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

They tumbled into the overstuffed velvet armchair together, lips connecting in warmth as the snowflakes tumbled outside, chaotic in their fall and ordered in their arrangement.

She wasn't alone on Christmas Eve, after all.

**The end.**

---

_HAPPY HOLIDAYS and best wishes to all! I really just wanted to give you something so sorry if it's not tops. I'll probably most more holiday things within the next few days, Merry Christmas, enjoy your time with family and friends!_


	26. Willing Sentimentality

A/N: Oh goodness! Over two hundred reviews! What if I reach 300? That would be so exciting! I love you all, thanks for sticking with the story!

**Chapter 26-Willing Sentimentality**

Harry Potter had never been a sentimental fool. He remembered, when Lavender and Ron were being ridiculous together, how she would wax lyrical about his eyes being "pools of depth and emotion" and he in turn would babble on about her hair, "strands of silk" or whatever nonsense the boy could come up with when half-awake and delirious from snogging (or love potions from Romilda Vane).

Harry had never truly understood; even with Cho. Yes he admired her raven-colored mane of bright black hair and the perfect feeling of her cheek on his own, but really, he found nothing poetic about it.

Later, Harry would realize that it was because only with Ginny Weasley could he turn into that sappy sod that he used to despise. Only the right girl could turn him into a mess when she would ask, truly with those pools of emotion in deep-set brown eyes, to have him tell her that he loves her just because she wants to hear the words.

The strange part was, he would do these things willingly.

He wasn't ashamed, nor was he put off by her requests.

He even had his own—he would tell her not to fix her hair right away when she rose from his bed in the morning, because he said, quote, "I love your beautiful hair, makes you look like an angel in the way the sun shines through the draperies—no need to fix it, you'd be lovely no matter what." He would pull her back into the warm sheets, tangled around his legs and tickle her as she giggled, pushing him away. "I'll be late to work!" Her feeble protests fell on deaf ears as he kissed her, scarlet curls mixing with deep black locks, and she ended up late to work more often than not.

Yes, he said these things willingly. What was happening to Harry Potter, one might ask? Well he was finally understanding the predicament many men find themselves in—yes, Harry was in love.

Ron was, understandably, disgusted in the beginning. "She's my sister, mate!" He would crow, time after time, and Harry's dazed smile would be replaced by something akin to mild apology. Ron had never really developed the need for words with Hermione, their relationship could be summed up in longing looks and soft touches.

But for Harry, words came rather easily when he finally found the one. Who would've thought?

Harry Potter was a sentimental sap.

---

"Liquid love within the eternal vial of hope?" Ginny would dissolve into laughter at the love letters Parvati would share with her, earning scoffs and nasty looks from the overly romantic young woman. For Ginny Weasley was not, under any circumstances, that type of odd girl who would fawn over the boy (yes maybe when she was younger, but that is all in the past, of course!) and melt into puddles when his "sapphire eyes burnt charred holes through" her own brown ones. Ginny didn't see the stupid colours in those idiotic romance novels, the chartreuses and eggshells that all looked like white—she was logical, after all, white is white and red is red!

She didn't understand how the hero and heroine always managed to meet in a cute, adorable way and have a sentimentally vivacious ending that sent everyone reeling and stumbling for their facial tissues. Ginny found it hard to fathom that in this day and age, any woman would wear her best dress robes to take a moonlit stroll and end up on the side of a lake with her perfect soulmate inches away, and end it all snogging away like there's no tomorrow.

And what kind of sorry girl would ask her boyfriend to_ tell_ her that he loves her? Why was that statement necessary? It seemed a waste of time, and an pitiful request at that—"they're just words, Hermione!", she ranted time after time in the Gryffindor dormitories. "Why does it matter so much? What sort of self-respecting woman needs her lover to affirm his affections for her?"

Ginny would be eating her words in a few years, unknown to her younger self.

Only with Harry Potter could she turn into that ruddy lump of a girl that swooned over the sweet nothings he would whisper in her ear—things that she would have, under normal circumstances, laughed at until her throat was sore. Only the right boy could turn her world upside down when he would ask, oh so sweetly, for her to leave her hair down in the morning because she looked like an angel with the sun shining upon it—even when he knew that she was sensitive about her frizzy morning hair.

The strange part was, she would do these things willingly, and she couldn't chuckle because she was so swept off her feet that she found herself bloody sympathizing with those imbecilic romantic witches!

"You have the most exquisite features!" Harry had boomed at her one night when she was complaining about the wrinkles forming above her brows. No longer a young witch, she had grown slightly self-conscious about her age—he knew her feelings on the matter although she hesitated to voice those thoughts out loud. Ginny Potter was no materialistic woman, yet she did have her vanities same as any other.

"I wouldn't have you change one thing about your face." Smoothing away the lines with a calloused thumb, her husband looked at her like she existed simply for him. Her breath would catch and heart would sing the sweet melodies that she had often snorted at—it really was true. Ginny Potter was a sentimental sap.

Only with Harry Potter would she ask him to say those three words that made her heart pound in a frightening fashion; years ago, she had wrinkled her nose at the thought of begging for affection. Now she understood—it wasn't asking for it at all, it was simply another form of comfort and after all, he gave it willingly.

He gave everything willingly.

"Mum, you and Dad are disgusting." Albus Potter would wrinkle his nose disapprovingly at his parents in the future. For it was true—Harry and Ginny Potter were both sentimental saps.

**End.**

---

A/N: Hey now I was feeling mushy so don't hate, I enjoy the run-ons haha. Leave a review with what I did wrong, I feel like there are too many drag-ish parts. Also would you like to give me ideas for more chapters? I have quite a few in the wings, I'll upload soon. But I need more ideas! Writer's block :/. THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS! Also, new story up: **Ways To Bother Hermione Granger**. D/Hr, kind of different, hmm? **Check it out!**


	27. Birthday Parties and Flustered Mommies

_Happy New Year's! Have a great and safe holiday and I hope you enjoy this cute story!_

A/N: Assumptions—James is 1 year older than Albus, who is two years older than Lily—so James is 4, Albus is 3, Lily is just turning 1. I know many of you are sticklers for dates and ages correspondingly—sorry if I let you down, dears :)

**Chapter 27- Birthday Parties and Flustered Mommies**

The house was in shambles.

Correction: the house was in _utter_ shambles, with a frantic frizzy-haired mother dashing about and counting down the ticking hours until the momentous party was to take place. After all, how often does your only daughter turn one year old?

"One hundred and fifty people invited why oh why did I listen to Mum and invite _everyone_ oh dear what to do what to do…"

The bustling redheaded woman muttering to herself was currently flying around the sitting room with her feet barely touching the ground, a sobbing Albus Severus latched tightly to her right ankle. She almost forgot about him for a moment when she attempted to step up onto Harry's favorite recliner to remove the fire-breathing toy dragons from their precarious perch on the mantle when she heard an angry baby roar from the little boy below her.

"MUMMY, ALBUS NO WANT TO GO LILY PARTY!"

"Al, DEAR!" Ginny's voice was reproving as she eyed the curtains, abruptly changing the colour from red to sunshine yellow.

"We've already talked about this, you get a birthday party when it's _your_ birthday," she chided, detaching the child from her foot and depositing him on a party-hat-covered chair. Pulling out her wand, she muttered a quick dusting spell and coughed as the particles flew up all around her. The toddler's answering wheezes caused her to whisk him up once again and settle him on the newly-dust-free end table coated with Witch Weekly Party Planning Tips magazines from the last few years, where he swung his legs and pouted.

Ginny gritted her teeth in response to the odd clanging noises from the floor above, knowing it was a mistake to let Harry give James the toy wand.

"Honestly, he's four years old…" She muttered to herself, shaking her head in despair. "How much more damage control can I do, really?"

With a crash, Albus fell from the end table as Ginny groaned and cooed and kissed the bruised knee and her son wailed louder than a banshee.

"What is that noise I hear?" Harry boomed, throwing open the front door and letting it crash against the kitchen counter. Ginny practically fainted in exhaustion as she heard the beginning cries of baby Lily who she had put down for a resting nap before the big day began. "Is that my big strong boy there?"

He strode over, dressed impeccably in his best dress robes, the emerald green of his eyes contrasting with the deep purple hue of the fabric. Harry patted the black-haired miniature version of himself on the head, as he continued to emit sounds of deep distress. Turning to face Ginny, Harry was met with an unpleasant surprise.

The husband recoiled almost instantly under the intense glare he was receiving from the obviously furious wife.

"WHERE_ HAVE_ YOU BEEN?"

Al stopped his cries, looking in wonder at his mother's blazing eyes. Harry began stepping backwards, slowly, eyeing the harried witch that was brandishing her wand like a weapon.

"Err—I, I had to—to pop over to Ron's…"

"I TOLD you to be back an HOUR ago to help put up the streamers in the yard!" Ginny hissed, her eyes narrowing into slits. The house had fallen mysteriously quiet, and Harry could just make out a little black-haired tyke peeking from over the banister railing on the second floor.

"I—erm, Gin, so sorry…"

"Oh never MIND already, did you bring the cake? There you go—well why is it floating outside? What do you mean, too big to bring inside? Fine, fine, Floo George and tell him to get over here and start setting up the tables so you can put the cake on that, all right?"

Ginny Potter was using her Mrs. Weasley voice, Mrs. Weasley hands-on-hips stance, and Mrs. Weasley stare. Albus Severus was slightly afraid, and he grabbed his mother's skirt in wordless distress.

Harry was mouthing soundlessly, gesturing with his hands. He started edging towards the stairs. "Well—well, Ginny, what else do you need me to do?"

"Hmm?" The witch twirled around, arms suddenly laden with baskets of goodies and balanced on her head was an assortment of party hats. "Can you check on James upstairs while I dress Al? Tell him to wear that adorable Muggle tuxedo the Grangers got for him, all right? And fix whatever he blew up! Oh that boy..."

"Right away!" Harry fled, fearing for his older son's life. "_Why did I give him that toy wand?_" he moaned to himself as he spotted a charred smoking hole where their first family portrait had been on the second floor landing.

"WE ONLY HAVE THREE HOURS, HARRY!" Ginny's voice projected through the house to him, and he groaned, voicing his thought.

"How are we supposed to get ready in three hours?!"

---_One hour later._

There were only two hours left.

"There are only two hours left!" Ginny was frantic, throwing random things into Hermione's arms as they both hurried about. Andromeda had just Flooed, saying she would be late and sorry that Teddy and she could be of no help with preparations.

Secretly, Ginny was relieved that mischievous Teddy Lupin would not be wreaking havoc so soon.

The party was to be in the back yard, and George, Ron and Harry were just now beginning to fix the tables into their places. Fleur was outside with Victoire wrangling with the Millimant's Magic Marquees wizards, Lily was blubbering on the changing table upstairs where Bill was attempting to magic away the dirty diaper without having to touch it and Al, James, and Rose were getting underfoot in the yard—as was evident by the screeches from the wizards.

"_Albus Severus, one more time I catch you hiding under this table and I swear on Merlin—_"

Mrs. Weasley popped in the front door, wand held high as she directed the sparkly party streamers through the house and wrapped them around the French doors. Mr. Weasley, on the other hand, was sitting bemusedly in a chair watching as the younger wizards and witches ran around with wide eyes and screeching voices. Hugo, barely as old as Lily Luna, was dozing next to his grandfather swathed in a bright green Weasley sweater, for Ginny had forgotten which closet she had tucked the blankets into.

"Err, Ginny dear, sure you don't need anything else?"

"S'alright Dad," Ginny's voice was muffled for it came from under the table, where she was finding remnants of last night's pumpkin pie. "You just—just stay there with the baby,"

"Well, if you insist," Arthur sighed as he took out the latest Prophet, opening it to the Muggle News section and keeping one eye on the slumbering infant. "Don't understand how he's still sleeping, my bloody ears are ringing…"

"Gin," Ron panted, a laughing James clutching to his back as he wobbled precariously. "Why are you cleaning the inside of the house? Isn't the party outside?"

He was attempting to corral Hermione to help him lengthen a tablecloth. She, for her part, ignored him and shook his hands off of her back as James screamed in pure joy—he was currently fisting grubby little paws in his uncle's red hair.

"Yes, Ronald, but obviously the house shan't be closed off to guests, where did you expect the loo to be?" Ginny's voice when exasperated sounded very much like Hermione's, and Ron bellowed in pain from the little gremlin on his back.

"Well then—" Here Ron stopped to spin around and attempt to pry off the little creature. "Why not just clean the loos?"

"Honestly, Ron! You're not helping anyone!" This time it was Hermione who answered, and in one fluid movement she gently yanked James off of her husband and lengthened the tablecloth in his clumsy hands. "Men."

Ron looked befuddled and Ginny took her opportunity to push him out the door, back onto the lawn where a set of chairs seemed to be reacting quite violently to Harry's enchantments.

"MEN!" Hermione shouted, pulling out her wand once again and trotting outside to help, an excited James following his aunt close behind.

"Ginny," An out of breath Fleur was tugging a hysterical looking witch in official robes behind her. Victoire followed, looking vaguely bored and shaking out her white-blonde sheet of hair, directly inherited from her mother. Eyes rolling skyward at yet another complication, Ginny turned only to have the breath whoosh out of her.

"What—is she _blue_?"

"Zees is ze problem!" Fleur shouted, her French accent exaggerated in distress. Her daughter raised an amused ten-year-old eyebrow. Fleur resorted to dropping the arm of the witch who scurried into the corner by Mr. Weasley. "Zees Marquee people, zey are unbelievable! Zee tents are wrong, all wrong! Ven you go eenside, ee-yu turn BLEU!"

"Oh, err—" Ginny paused in mid-motion for a minute, attempting to wrap her mind around the debacle. She looked rather comical, balancing a pot she had found under the bathroom sink on one hand and a stack of mile-high paper plates in the other. The Millimant's witch sniffled, earning her a glare from the irate French woman. "Call Hermione, she's wrestling with George's table charms, tell her this is a more pressing matter,"

With a haughty sigh, Fleur swept out of the room, followed by the blue-tinted witch. "I am not going in zer…" Ginny could hear her sister-in-law say about the tent, followed by various arrogant statements such as "_een my country ve do not have zees problems, oui!_". There was a vague sound like a table colliding with the side of a tent, apparently narrowly missing the colour-charmed witch who let out a series of high-pitched squeaks.

"Sacre bleu," Ginny muttered to herself, throwing the pot under the kitchen sink where it belonged and levitating the paper plates out to the yard where they hopefully ended up in competent hands. She shot a wary eye over to her father, who was apparently dozing with one hand securely on Hugo's back.

_Hugo…where is Lily?_ Ginny grew frantic for a moment, thinking about how Harry would react when she told him she lost their child whose party today was for—then she heard baby giggles from upstairs and dashed to her child.

"Oh, Bill," Ginny breathed, a hand pressed to her heart. _Terrible! Losing track of one's children is never appropriate._ "I thought Lily was alone up here,"

"Nonsense," Bill said confidently, his scarred face beaming at his youngest sibling. Lily rolled about on the changing table, cooing at the sight of her mother. He waved his wand in front of the baby, grinning as she grabbed at the harmless sparks shooting out the end. "I know how to raise a child, mind you."

"Of course," Ginny snickered, resting her feet for a moment as she propped herself up next to her waving daughter. "How could I forget, you running into Ron's at two in the morning for help with feeding your month old daughter."

Bill straightened up and glared comically. "It was the first time I was alone with her, Merlin! You lot will never let me forget that."

"Bill, could you do me a favor?" Ginny asked plaintively, swinging her feet reflexively just like Al did out of habit. "Can you put Lily in her party dress and shoes? I haven't got the time, I still need to figure out the children's table,"

"Sure, sure," the older wizard said amiably, wiggling a finger above the laughing child's face. "Gin, don't stress, all right? Let Fleur do that for you, she's quite good at it,"

"I suppose Victoire's learning, too?" Ginny threw over her shoulder as she headed out of the room, confident in her brother. An answering boom of laughter followed her down the hall where she eyed a recently-mended (and still smoking) family portrait hanging askew and down the stairs where she was confronted with children running around the kitchen in circles.

"Oh, bloody hell," she said softly to herself, picking up the sparklers that Rose had inadvertently knocked to the ground. James trod on one of the distant young Weasley cousin's feet, the redheaded child slowly beginning a cry of pain. "I'll be in St. Mungo's by tonight,"

----

"ONE HOUR!" Ginny's voice, amplified with a Sonorus, shocked the entire party-planning committee as they shot willy-nilly from one end of the Potter property to another. She had finally finished tidying up the interior of the house (or at least, as best as it would get with the children running amok within). The Marquee issue had been resolved, thanks to Hermione's intervention, and Fleur was currently bossing around the witches and wizards that were arranging the inside particular to her wishes. The outer tables were, for once, arranged in a decent way and Mrs. Weasley was good-naturedly placing levitating name-cards in accordance to the seating plan that Fleur had come up with the night before. Naturally, Teddy and Andromeda arrived amidst the chaos, with a reverent James immediately latching on to an all-too-cocky Teddy. Spying the double trouble immediately, Ginny kept a cautious eye on them as Teddy marched superiorly towards Victoire, James imitating the swagger.

She stifled a hearty chuckle when Victoire spotted the two and faced away, her platinum hair shimmering in the light. Teddy halted, suddenly unsure, and scratched his head.

"Ginny!" Harry yelled across the din, waving her over to where Bill was carrying Lily in one arm. "Your cousin Barney is here with his children, the rest should be arriving shortly,"

"Right then, I'll get dressed," Ginny eyed her youngest daughter's outfit with approval, noticing the dexterity with which Bill had placed the ribboned bow on her head. "Practice makes perfect, eh?" Harry grabbed Lily, holding her aloft and heading inside where Ron and Hermione were dealing with the caterers.

Bill rolled his eyes at his sister, immediately jumping to where his own daughter was about to engage in violent behavior with an insistent Teddy Lupin. Ginny closed her eyes momentarily, breathing out heavily, and pushed through the people to put on her best new dress for the evening.

"When Lily is old enough, we're reminding her of this!" Harry shouted to no one in particular, clutching his daughter to his chest as a laughing James and Teddy blasted past. "Our daughter will never forget the sweat and tears we put into this—this—PARTY!"

---

The event was in full swing, with surprisingly few setbacks. The caterers had dropped a tray of bread in the driveway, and Parvati Patil's daughter had nearly been trampled by a splinched Neville Longbottom, but all was put right. Ginny looked radiant, dazzling in her off-white knee-length dress, and Harry played the role of the proud father, displaying the gussied-up Lily on his arm for all to see. The birthday girl was glowing in the center of attention, charming old Hogwarts friends and work colleagues alike. She was currently crawling on a tablecloth, being cheered on by a wide-eyed Luna Lovegood.

Ginny stood off to the side, admiring the work everyone had put in to the lovely party. Lantern lights shimmered and shone where Hermione had charmed them to dangle, illuminating the stars in the night sky above. Tables were arranged in a convenient fashion, with most of the witches and wizards wandering about chatting with one another. Sounds of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air, with wine bottles hovering above the adult tables. The children's table was filled with jumping, chattering kids, with Mrs. Weasley chaperoning the young ones from a distance. Hermione and Ron were seated with Hugo, talking to Neville, as a slightly intoxicated Seamus Finnigan laughed uproariously at a joke told by George. The Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly had (naturally) sent their best sneaky photographers to linger in the bushes—they were scared off by a snarling Bill Weasley who took great sport in frightening the squeaking little men.

Harry snuck up behind his wife, wrapping tight arms around her waist as she jumped a bit. He kissed her neck, and Ginny could feel him smiling. "Where's Lily?" She turned, wrapping soft arms around his neck and greeting him with a sweet kiss on the lips.

"Over with Luna," Harry motioned over to the table she was sharing with her husband and the Patils. "Can't believe all these people are here for our little girl."

"We really did well with keeping contact all these years, didn't we,"

Harry wasn't listening to her, his eyes drifting over the scarlet-haired woman from head to toe. "Merlin, you look stunning tonight."

"You clean up rather well yourself, Mr. Potter," Ginny blushed a bit, ducking her face. "I wonder who suggested those robes for you?"

"Oh, I can think of someone," Harry grinned, pushing his glasses up on his nose as they both turned back to the party. "James and Al had big parties too—we're spoiling our children,"

"The first birthday is for the parents, it's not like they'll remember—we decide to torture ourselves voluntarily," Ginny chuckled to herself.

A sudden wave of laughter grabbed the couple's attention—they craned their necks towards a crowd near the house. "Wonder what that's about?" Harry murmured, draping an arm around Ginny's waist. They watched in mild confusion as the crowd parted to let a stumbling little boy through, his face covered with—_what in the name of Merlin?_

"Ginny—how—how did your knickers get on Al's head?" Harry's strangled question gave way to raucous laughter as his knees buckled under him. As more and more people caught sight of the wandering child, chuckles broke out across the yard. Hagrid, sitting nearest the grinning toddler, was crying out of pure mirth with big tears soaking his beard and the tablecloth.

Ginny clapped a hand to her forehead, watching as her son meandered about with her best red silk knickers atop his fluffy head like a hat.

"Our children are gremlins."

**End.**

**I hope you liked it! Have a great day and I'll update again this weekend! Leave a review if you are so inclined, I will love you for it!**


	28. Dance With Me

_A/N: In honor of New Year's. Hope you had a lovely celebration and have a great first day of 2010!_

**Chapter 28- Dance With Me**

"Dance with me."

The house was quiet, the children asleep after a night of frolicking at the annual Christmas family function at the Ministry. Harry had bought a new dress for Ginny for the occasion, bright purple silk with white trim. The capped sleeves were embroidered with lace, covering her freckled shoulders but leaving soft upper arms exposed. It cut off quite abruptly above the knee, soft folds of fabric glimmering with color. It complemented her once-red hair, now a delightful light brown steeped in shimmers of maroon.

She stood off by the fireplace, lighting the flickering embers with a slender, old wand clutched in a lithe hand. Switching on the wireless above the mantle, she swayed her hips gently to the sounds of old violins and opera voices. The lady tapped a little foot encased in a purple heel, her slim ankle entrancing in its own way.

As she turned to face the black-haired man watching her with deep green eyes, her bewitching hair caught the light, flickering in shadows around the walls. Her face was enveloped in orange, freckles standing out and pink lips shining in display only for her husband. The woman was still slender but her posture was not impeccable as before; her Quidditch days were over, she spent most of her days reporting on the sport and chasing after now-teenaged children. Yet to Harry Potter, she was still the most beautiful witch on the planet.

"Dance with me." Her quiet voice soothed him, reminding him of live orchestra and summer rain and all the things they had shared in nearly two decades of wedded bliss.

He stood apart from her, watching her head tilt to the side as she bit her reddened bottom lip, beckoning him forward with a gentle wave. Stepping into her arms, he enveloped her in his body, inhaling the scent of mint and pine that radiated forth. He moved in a gentle waltz she had taught him years earlier, the swift movements dulled by unpracticed casualness. Her little head rested just below his heart where it always fit, perfectly, right into him. Soft hands reached up to his messy hair, brushing it down in the back where it always stood straight up. His hands settled on her waist, hers around his neck and they moved as one, united, while the children slept upstairs.

The house was quiet except for the sounds of the wireless and the click-clack of heels moving across hardwood floors. Soft humming came from the middle-aged couple as they twirled, dancing for each other.

**End.**

**Short and to the point. Let me know what you think :)  
**


	29. Quidditch Books and Sideways Looks

**Title: Quidditch Books and Sideways Looks**

**Summary: Draco Malfoy and Ginny Potter run into each other.**

--

Flourish and Blotts was quiet on this cold winter day; Ginny had simply dropped by on her lunch break to pick up a book that Lily had ordered by owl-post for Harry. She was in her second year at Hogwarts, receiving special permission from his mother to pick out something for her dad's birthday, a great responsibility for the little girl. Ginny was detained in the Quidditch section, spotting a new release of the Best of the Decade collection and taking her time browsing through the book. She was contemplating spending the gold on it when she was nudged by a sharp elbow in the back.

"My apologies, miss…" The courteous words trailed off as Ginny turned to catch his eye, silver meeting brown with electricity.

"Malfoy?"

The heir in question coughed quietly, a gloved hand concealing his obvious surprise at running into the wife of his former nemesis. He removed his hand, running it restlessly through the now cut-short blonde hair in concealed agitation. Draco was looking about the same, a slight wrinkling of the skin around his eyes and laugh lines around his mouth showing a bit of the good humour he had apparently developed.

"The little Weasley, is it…er, Potter now—can't recognize you by your hair anymore, changed color a bit." His lips quirked upwards at the comment, deflecting malice and changing it to good intent. Ginny felt no anger of her own, those feelings had long been replaced by something akin to pity and forgiveness.

"Oh yes, well, we're all getting older, aren't we?" Ginny chirped, patting her curly head with a dainty hand. Malfoy's eyes were drawn to the large diamond on her left ring finger sitting above the golden wedding band, raising his eyebrows with a smirk.

"Potter's doing well for himself, I suppose. Haven't seen him at the Ministry lately, usually he's around when I come by to drop off my account ledgers,"

Ginny had forgotten that Malfoy was a true businessman, no longer just the smarmy son of a powerful, dangerous man. _"Draco Malfoy? Working for a living? Who would have thought?" _she had snorted when Harry told her that he had helped Malfoy reestablish the legitimate portions of the Malfoy family business—an opportunity that would not have been possible without the subtle hand of Harry Potter.

Malfoy was holding a book on female Quidditch players, and Ginny wrinkled her brows in confusion. He lifted it slightly in response to her unasked question, relaxing his shoulders from their previously tense position now that he'd established she wasn't about to hex him. "Oh, for Astoria. She had been going on and on about some feminist movement within sports and how no one focused on the women of Quidditch as much as the men,"

"Ah, I see," Ginny chortled at Malfoy's distress over his wife, his own smile reassuring. "Yes, Harry's been quite busy lately, hasn't been around to speak to the Minister for a while. How's that business of yours faring?"

"Better than ever, not surprisingly. Malfoys aren't seen as target practice anymore since Lucius passed away," Thin lips tightened at the words, sparking a sympathetic look from the younger witch.

"Yes, I had heard about that. I am sorry, Draco,"

"Pish posh," Malfoy retorted scornfully, turning back to the shelves and picking up a Holyhead Harpies book. "No one is, really. How's your Quidditch writing career coming along? I heard your former team is still invited over for holiday dinners,"

"Oh yes, I do enjoy working at the Prophet. Where did you hear that from?" Ginny was genuinely surprised to hear his interest in her life—this once-scornful blonde arse of a pureblood, speaking calmly and kindly to a blood-traitor? _Miracles do exist,_ she thought to herself, leaning back against the bookshelf behind her.

"Weasley was at my desk the other day complaining about something or another that Granger was doing for Christmas, and we got on the subject of wives and company for the hols," he was still turned to the shelf away from her, poring over the rows, and he missed her brows shooting up into her hairline.

"Ron? My brother?" Ginny was fully stunned; the last time the Malfoys had been brought up around Ron he had reacted quite violently, marching off muttering something about _bloody bouncing ferrets_ and _disgusting blonde hair._

"Oh right I forgot how many of you Weasleys there are—yes, Ronald. He is surprisingly not as dull and imbecilic as I once believed, perhaps Granger has rubbed off on him," Draco paused, enchanted by his own unintended innuendo, and chuckled. "Well, obviously, she has rubbed off on him. I meant in the other way,"

He seemed surprised that she laughed as well, shooting her a sideways glance to catch a glimmer of amusement in her chocolate eyes. Draco was, in fact, rather shocked that she stood around talking to him this long in public where others were bound to gossip about the wife of the Boy Who Lived and the pureblood himself conversing without shouting, hexing, or otherwise distasteful mannerisms.

"What?" Ginny was a bit put-off by his staring, and he caught himself in time.

"Err…I was simply—drawn into memories of the past,"

"I see," Ginny looked down, her once-bright hair falling around her face. "You're quite different, Malfoy. I don't believe we've spoken in more than ten years, have we."

"I'd seen you and Potter at Ministry functions of course, run into the Weasel and Granger quite often at the Ministry, but I believe you're the only one I have yet to have a conversation with."

"It's almost as if you've been avoiding me," Ginny said carefully, cautiously, still unsure about the limits of this new Draco. He gave her the typical Malfoy sneer.

"I wouldn't avoid you, Weaselette," The insult was foreign to him, and made her giggle a bit—it was rather juvenile, he had to admit. "Truth is, I simply don't see you. I rarely drop by the Prophet, usually just to dispel the latest Death Eater rumor about my twelve year old son or frighten the editor into advertising a few of my products,"

The bell jingled above the door of the store, and both turned to see Seamus Finnigan march in, slightly rounder and more jovial than in his younger years. He tossed a wave to them both, turning to the counter to chat with the owner.

"I'm still surprised," Draco murmured, still looking in the direction of Seamus. "When I run into old Gryffindors, they are quite polite to me. It's the old members of my house who avoid me like the plague,"

Ginny wasn't sure if the comment was even meant to be overheard, and busied herself with the buttons on her coat. She looked up to see Malfoy concealing a smile, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. "Your evasion techniques are impeccable, Ginevra,"

Ginny grinned in response to the comment. "So, Albus tells me that little Scorpius is quite adept at Potions,"

Draco lit up in fatherly pride, his face beaming with compliments. Ginny noticed with detachment that his blonde hair was still as platinum as ever, almost glittering in the sunlight trickling through the dusty windows. Unconsciously, her hand went to a lock of hair over her shoulder, noting the contrast in color. "What can I say, he gets his brains from his mother. The boy is toe to toe with Granger's girl for top of the class,"

Ginny chuckled. "I've heard they've had some lovely battles, reminds me of our Hogwarts days,"

A shadow darted across Malfoy's face. "Hopefully their arguments are a bit different than ours,"

"Of course," Ginny said hurriedly, feeling uncomfortable. Pausing, she frowned in thought. "Malfoy—can I ask you something?"

He eyed her with trepidation—this _Weaselette_, the girl who had grown into the wife of the man he had picked on mercilessly throughout school—he supposed that a personal question wasn't too out of order to atone for the past. "Why not."

"Scorpius is very…different, from how you were as a child. I've met the boy, he is extremely polite and well mannered, and none of the children have mentioned anything about pureblood this pureblood that,"

Draco was guarded, studying her expression. "Where is the question in that?"

"Did you—did you raise him differently?" She held her breath a bit at her boldness, not wanting to offend him.

He cracked a humourless smile. "Do you see my son ranting about the Dark Lord or spouting off filth about getting the Dark Mark? Of course I raised the boy differently, we are in different times and I hold different values,"

It was Ginny's turn to study the blonde man, noticing the lightheartedness in his face that had been distinctly lacking during Hogwarts. "You really are different, Draco,"

"As are you," the man retorted, pursing his lips. "I suppose I can't call the mother of three and the wife of Harry Potter a little redheaded brat anymore,"

"And I reckon I can't call a devoted family man a vile filthy ferret," They were both stifling smiles, the spite of the words long gone in the wash of time.

Slowly, Ginny realized they were still in the bookstore. Barely ten minutes had passed, Seamus Finnigan was still at the counter, but something had changed in the air. Perhaps it was a new understanding of the man she had once told Harry that she would never forgive.

"_Without forgiveness, all we have is spite and hatred. Then we're no better than them,"_ Harry had said to her softly, without judgment. She had failed to understand why he was willing to give Malfoy a second chance, but now she saw that the opportunity Harry had given Draco to right the wrongs of the past was the mark of a truly good person.

"Well I'd better be going," Ginny held up the slip of parchment with the order number on it. "Must pick this up from the front then head back to the Prophet,"

Draco inclined his head in a polite nod. "It was…_interesting…_taking this trip down memory lane with you, Mrs. Potter,"

"Yes, Draco, it was nice to see you too," Ginny rolled her eyes, interpreting his words. "Perhaps I'll bump into you sometime,"

"Yes, perhaps," Both were well aware they would probably go another few years without speaking. "Give my best to your children, and to Potter,"

"Alright then," Ginny was surprised when Malfoy stuck out a hesitant hand, shaking hers as gently as one would with a fragile piece of glass. "Goodbye, Draco,"

"Goodbye, Ginny."

When she left the shop, Draco was still in there, browsing through the Quidditch books with an intent look in his eyes. He didn't look back at Ginny, and she walked back to the Prophet offices, contemplating a new dinner recipe for her and Harry.

**End.**

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**I know it's a little anti-climatic but I can see something like this happening after they're older, for real. Also didn't proof read this, didn't have time, so sorry! It's going to be a while in between updates, I'm so busy these days, please hang in there! Thanks for sticking with the story, I love my faithful readers and reviewers and I appreciate all the PMs and story alerts and story faves! It means a lot to me. Much love.**


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